


Let me fill these hollow skies

by naanad



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Episode Ignis Verse 2, Fleurentia, Fluff, M/M, More like friendly acquaintances to rivals to friends to lovers tbh, Profanity, Ravnis, Slow Burn, Violence, exploring the ten year gap, the characters are dealing with some difficult things, the opinions of fictional characters do not reflect my own
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-06-25 13:22:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 43,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15641613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naanad/pseuds/naanad
Summary: Hope was a form of torture.And where a heart was too heavy to carry uphill, one must roll it to move on.-This work seeks to fill the 10-year gap during Episode Ignis Verse 2, while also expanding upon Ravus and Ignis's relationship as time ticks onward.But will the mysteries they uncover along the way illuminate the path ahead, or cast them even deeper in shadow?





	1. From The Beginning, Now

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of Square Enix. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I just wanted to poke around in Ravus's head, explore his journey, and puzzle out how he’d be dealing with the aftermath. But somewhere along the lines, it got completely out of hand and this fic has developed both a consciousness and personality of its own. Bon appétit.

"My child, within your eyes, there is a labyrinthine hall of mirrors, one corridor forever expanding upon another at each turn. Tell me of the truth you seek. Perhaps I can allay your worries.”

She turned eyes like the pale summer sky upon ones nearly identical, yet once so nearly forgotten.

“Their trials will be great in number. Flesh and bone are only so strong,” she lamented.

“They are made hearty by the winter of life’s struggles, heart-wine stirred to blazing, their skin as ready as scale. They will succeed.”

“But at what cost?”

The other nodded kindly, compassionately. But the silence crushed, crashed. “The cost will come with or without. It is then a question of magnitude - of who will pay that cost if none will take the chance.”

 

  
<<>>

 

“Ravus, words cannot express…”

_No, no._

“I’m very grateful for the aid you lent us.”

_Not quite._

“The aid you lent, and for helping Noct find me…”

Ignis sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Why was this so difficult? He just had to bloody say _thank you!_

“Do you always rehearse your speeches like that, or am I a special case?”

Ignis spun, voice ratcheting several octaves higher. _“Ravus!”_

He straightened and adjusted his sunglasses. “I-” He glanced up quickly at the ex-commander to gauge his expression.

Surprise, surprise. It was unreadable. But by the Gods, he looked ghastly.

Gone was his coiled ferocity, replaced with a leagues-deep well of loss. It left his eyes raw and hollow, skin dull and waxen. He looked like a ghost.

As expected, Ravus had retreated from the world to mourn in private for a few days. Ignis was surprised to see him so soon.

“Not generally, no.” He flexed his hands, suddenly feeling clammy. “In any event, I wanted to say that I’m grateful for your help, as well as-”

Ravus cut him off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You needn’t waste your breath. I think we both know I am undeserving of such courtesies at this point.”

Ignis frowned deeply. Even so. “You saved my life and Noctis's. And more lives were spared as well by extension. This world would have been essentially lost if you had not intervened when Ardyn was about to-” He faltered as the violent wildfire of that memory tore through his chest. “When he tried to hurt Noct. For that, you _do_ have my gratitude.”

 _“Ha!”_ A sharp noise was sliced from Ravus’s throat that seemed to stain the very air between them crimson. “And yet the single life my decisions helped murder multitudes for has been struck from the planet. All along, I-” A muscle jumped in his jaw. His fists clenched, knuckles white. A million words elbowed, and kicked, and fought to escape Ravus’s mouth at once, but he swallowed them all down. 

Ignis thought he understood. Ravus knew he couldn’t possibly ask forgiveness for what he’d done, and acknowledged his horrendous wrongdoings for precisely what they were. There was nothing Ravus could say that would excuse the devastation he helped bring about when he sided with Ardyn, with Niflheim. It was an utterly futile attempt to free his sister from the torment she'd endured for years, only so that they might destroy all else. 

Ignis thought Ravus’s light had gone out long ago, but he saw it smothered with his own eyes when he discovered his sister’s murder.

However, Ignis also saw it return sometime after their… disagreement.

When Ravus told him that he felt nothing, what he meant was that he finally felt he’d lost _everything_.

But Ignis liked to believe it was something he’d said that convinced Ravus the world was still worth fighting for. _Living_ for. That he decided to fully commit to doing whatever it took to ensure the future Luna wished to see could come to fruition, and do it right. Stubbornness was one of Ravus’s defining qualities, after all. He would keep at this mission until the very end.

Because above all else, even if he could never redeem himself or undo his past, Ravus still wanted to help restore hope for others. And he wanted to do so desperately. Not for his own benefit, but purely for the people, and with no expectation of anything in return.

Ignis took a hesitant step forward, head bowed to meet Ravus’s downturned gaze. “Do you remember when Noct and I visited Fenestala Manor as children?”

The question threw Ravus off enough that he did meet Ignis’s eyes then. 

Ignis continued. “When Noct was playing with Luna, you took me aside and showed me the grounds. I still remember it, clear as day. You led me through the gardens, and we sat in the fields of sylleblossoms near the Manor while we ate some sort of sweet custard. You were older, and likely had other things to occupy your time with. But instead, you, a prince I’d never met before, showed me kindness, and kept me company entirely of your own volition.”

Ravus only squinted at him dubiously. He remained on guard.

“You’ve changed a great deal since then, Ravus. But at your core, I know you‘re still that same person with the capacity to care deeply for others. I haven’t a single clue what happened to you at the hands of Ardyn and Niflheim. Nor will I force it out of you.”

The slumped curve of Ravus’s shoulders tightened minutely, hackles raised at the mention of Ardyn, but said nothing.  

Ignis was no fool. He wasn't always the most adept at parsing through the minutia of social interaction, but he knew fear when he saw it. He’d not forgotten the drastic change Ravus had undergone when Ardyn appeared in Aracheole Stronghold. The rage, the indignation, how he’d quickly retreated from Ardyn’s space and averted his eyes. How he'd followed at the flick of a wrist as Ardyn left, like a dog with his tail between his legs trailing after an ill-tempered master. It was not so much fear for himself, Ignis suspected, as it was for Lady Lunafreya's safety, should he do anything deemed out-of-line.

Because that was the thing about power. The corrupt only relinquish it under the circumstances that one continues to facilitate their plans. It was a colorful lure designed to maim.

“I will withhold my judgment,” Ignis held his eye contact firmly and pushed on. “And I vow to aid you in whatever manner I can to make things right for the people. They’ll need as much help as they can find right now.”

If Ignis blinked, he might have missed it. Something vulnerable and soft flickered across Ravus’s features.

“I hope you don’t come to regret that statement, Scientia. I have no doubts that whatever lies ahead will certainly prove to be a handful.”

Ignis folded his arms and relaxed his posture a bit. “I dare say my entire life has been one handful after another. What's a few more?" He tried for levity, knowing full well that the horrors to come would be very, very different from anything they'd come up against before. But it would not do to think that way. "I did practically raise the King of Light, after all.”

“Indeed.” Ravus’s face grew pensive. “While the Chosen King is within the Crystal, what will you do?”

Ignis dropped down onto an ottoman and gestured Ravus to a chair. “I will go to Lucis, where we will keep the Crystal safe for the day Noct returns to us. Until that happens, I and the others will need to contact those who would aid us. Friends, Hunters, Glaives. I’ve seen some of what is to come.”  
  
Ravus’s brows shot into his hairline, and he leaned forward in his seat.

Ignis nodded and crossed one leg over the other. “The days will continue to grow darker, daemons will bring about a crisis as we’ve never seen before. Hunters, energy sources, medical supplies, non-perishable foods, and various other items will be required to keep the people safe and healthy. Plans will need to be engineered to preserve crucial plants and other wildlife in the absence of the sun.” He eyed Ravus. “That also begs the question of how the people _here_ will fair with their homes already reduced to such a state.”

“I will take on that responsibility, myself," Ravus had his answer ready. "Accordo will need a great deal of rebuilding. As will parts of Tenebrae.”

“If you would-” Ignis shifted and settled his elbows on his knees. “In times of terrible disaster, such as this is, a colossal cleanup effort is required before one can even begin to think of rebuilding. I can be your liaison between Lucis, Tenebrae, and Accordo. Together, we can restore trade, and I’m sure we can lend you a few hands as well as machinery to help clear away the rubble if need be. A united front is vital if we are to restore our homes and allow hope to live on for the masses in what will undoubtedly be trying times ahead.”

Ravus watched him steadily, the latticed window sending a web of light and shadow across his sharp features. “You would make a worthy ruler, Scientia. Far better than myself, I suspect.” He rose from his seat and extended a hand. “I will gratefully accept your offer.”

“I won’t argue with that presumption,” he teased, and clasped Ravus’s hand. “Give me two hours and then come by again. I have to take care of a few matters before I depart with the others for Cape Caem, but I’ll have something for you before I go.”

Ravus attempted to mask his intrigue poorly. “If it's another migrane, you may keep it.”

“Perhaps I ought to give you _that_ now if you prefer.”

The corners of Ravus’s lips twitched. “You are full of surprises, Scientia.” 

“Well, I suppose it’s not the worst thing one can be full of.” He mirrored Ravus’s posture and drew himself up straighter. “You _may_ call me ‘Ignis,’ you know.”

Ravus nodded briefly and swung the door open wide for Ignis to pass through. “Scientia.”

 

<<>>

 

Ignis yanked the hotel's front door upward on its hinges to coax it into opening, and stepped out into the brisk morning air. It smelled like rain, and the sky was eerily bleak in a way he’d only witnessed in the aftermath of hurricanes.

He was struck with a tremendous sadness at the scenes of destruction before him.

The ground was still saturated with seawater after the Tidemother’s summoning. People milled about despondently as they dragged out mattresses, furniture, children’s stuffed animals, boxes of papers and photo albums - all their worldly belongings from their ruined homes. They lay in heaps at the side of the road to be taken away by the clean-up crew. Here were people’s lives, their homes, memories... Yes, some personal possessions could be replaced with time. But things like a child’s drawings, or photos that had been passed down for generations, edges yellowed from fond fingers running over them… they were gone forever. Just as the memory of these hardships would remain with them forever.

The building they were staying in was one of few in the immediate area closest to the Altar of the Tidemother that would not need to be demolished.

This would not be easy.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Aranea pushed off the brick wall and wiped her hands on her pants.

“Not your personal chauffeur, y’know.”

“No, that’s why I asked you as a personal friend.” He glanced at her peripherally. “Thank you for taking the time to do this. I know you’ve been busy with the relief efforts.”

“Yeah, well.” She shrugged and rubbed her temples. “Happy to help, and all that.”

They boarded Aranea’s ship, Ignis inputting the coordinates he’d memorized by heart years ago.

The time it took to get to the grassy field seemed extraordinarily short in comparison to how long he'd waited to see it. He stepped off the ship and through shallow puddles, insects flying from the dampened grass around his ankles.

Aranea stayed with her cruiser while he trudged through the wet overgrowth, trees swaying and moaning in the wind.

Ignis found the smooth stone and knelt before it, uncaring of how muddied his pants would be when he got up again.

He reached out and ran a thumb over the polished slab, over the name etched there, and let the chisel of his agony crack him open. He often wondered if she’d be proud of him. But he’d never know for sure.

Time passed.

The sky roared.

Ignis rose from the dirt when he felt the first cold pinpricks of rain begin to fall, and returned to the ship.

“Can I ask who it was?”

He slumped down into the metal seat heavily and closed his eyes.

“My mother,” he answered quietly, hand absently fondling the little skull pendant that hung from his neck. “She wished to be buried in the land of her birth.”

“I’m sorry.”

“As am I.” And that effectively closed off the conversation for the remainder of the ride back.

He had to admit, he was glad for it. Ignis felt like he couldn’t remember the last time he was allowed to be alone with his own thoughts. Aranea appeared to understand that, and respected his space.

“You know I’m all ears if you ever need to talk, Specs,” Aranea said in passing as they exited the ship.

Ignis was touched by the gesture, but only nodded in silence as he returned to his quarters.

Ravus was already waiting for him outside his door, pacing back and forth and looking rather lost. He eyed Ignis critically as if at war within himself.

“Shall we,” he waved Ravus inside.

“You look wretched.”

“Funny, that’s about how I feel as well,” Ignis threw the remark over his shoulder as he rummaged around in his suitcase. He breathed in deeply to reorient himself - he didn’t intend for that to come across as harshly as it did.

“Here we are,” he pulled out a spare phone for emergencies and waggled it triumphantly. “You haven’t got one of these, yourself, have you?”

Ravus shook his head with a sour expression.

“We’ll need to keep in touch frequently. You know how to use one, yes?”

“Of course,” Ravus said with all the confidence of someone who definitely did not know how to use a smartphone but refused to admit it.

“Good.” Ignis grinned.

He powered it on and scooted closer so they could share the screen. “My contact information is already programmed into the phone book. Yours is currently in mine as well. But what I wanted to show you is this.” He tapped a little blue icon. “A friend was able to create a workspace for us all. It’s a system that lets everyone else know what's getting accomplished and who needs help.” Ignis tapped on one of the spreadsheets in the folder labeled ‘Hunts_Lucis.’ “Each task category has its own sheet. That way, we can all organize who is tackling which hunt, going to which location for meteorshards, delivering which supplies to whom, and who will be at what site doing patrols, assessment, and so on. It’ll help prevent everyone from wasting other people’s time or possibly putting them in unnecessary danger by traveling somewhere for a task that someone has already started.”

Ignis glanced at Ravus to see how he was absorbing the material. Ravus's brow was creased, and he pinched his bottom lip in thought as he scanned the page. “These lists can be created and shared instantly between everyone who has access to the folders anywhere in the world.” He opened a folder named ‘Accordo_FirstAssessment,’ which had columns for various neighborhoods, the severity of damage, and a space for names and other notes. He opened the same file on his own phone and clicked on the column for ‘Deutatuo Residential District.’ His own green cursor blinked on Ravus’s screen. “See?” He moved over to the row for ‘structures destroyed’ and typed ‘4’ as an example.

He handed the phone over. “Give it a try? It’ll be good to see how progress is going in real-time. Or, close to it.”

Ravus nodded and took the smartphone gingerly. “It will be done.”

At least he seemed to have the important part down. The thought of Ravus attempting to understand the restof the device’s features made Ignis feel equal parts guilty for not showing him how it worked, and immensely amused over the carousel of expressions the ex-commander would likely take on while doing so. He remembered how long it took for King Regis to master the art of copy and pasting something into a search or taking a screenshot. But Ignis believed it was best to let Ravus take the initiative and come to him on his own terms, rather than prod at his insecurities. And Ravus was an intelligent man. Ignis figured he’d learn how to use it soon enough, anyway. 

They laid out a schedule for contacting each other, and tentative plans for when they’d ideally like to set certain phases of each mission in motion. He and Ravus were still both trained tacticians at their core, after all.

“I’ll see you again soon,” Ignis clapped a hand on Ravus’s shoulder.  

Ravus laid a much more hesitant hand over Ignis’s shoulder, as if uncertain it would be welcome. “I pray that circumstances will have improved by the time we next meet.”

And something in the way he said it reminded him _so very much_ of Luna.

It slipped the memory of Ravus grieving on the Altar of the Tidemother between his ribs like an assassin's dagger.

Ignis suddenly thought he’d never forgive himself for standing idly by in that moment.

He could have simply laid a hand on Ravus’s shoulder, just like this.

It’s what Ignis would have desperately needed if the same fate befell Noctis. He couldn't even imagine...

No, he could. Of course, he could. Almost did. He'd likely have wept inconsolably, screamed and howled to the heavens, cursed the world and the prophecy long-soaked in blood, beat his fists into the stone until reduced to a fine pulp. 

But he couldn’t force his feet to move.

He snapped back to the present and cleared his throat abashedly, squeezing Ravus’s shoulder before stepping away. An uncomfortable amount of time had likely passed while he was lost in thought.

If Ravus noticed, he made no comment on the lapse. He only searched Ignis's face for a moment. For what, he could not tell, but then stepped out of Ignis’s space as well.

“Right, well. Off we go.” Ignis attempted a smile, and Ravus gave him... some approximation of an expression that was slightly less displeased than usual.

He would count it as a win.


	2. Chapter 2

Ignis dreamed.  
  
He dreamed of a man in a cell cackling madly to himself as he rolled and unrolled a manifesto in his cracked hands. He looked like Ignis, but not. More like a distant relative. Black poured from his eyes. Shadows seemed to emanate from every crevasse of the dim cell, slinking around the man like a cloak. Like the Scourge that Ardyn wore like a scarlet letter: alive and seething in the air of Zegnautus Keep as he looked upon the Crystal.  
  
_“Wretched man! I despise you!”_ The man threw his papers aside and grasped the iron bars of his cell, shaking them wildly and snarling when a second figure approached.  
  
_“Please-”_ the second man’s voice drifted through the bars. It sounded strangely familiar, although he couldn’t place it. _“Please, my love, my heart, it was not I who did this to you!”_ the figure pleaded. _“Gods above, why have you forsaken us?”_ he wailed. _“How could I have known?”_ He reached through the bars to stroke the other’s face, but withdrew quickly when the man made to bite his hand.  
  
The dream fragmented, melted into a different time and space.  
  
He stood before Ravus as the former prince held his sister’s body in his arms.  
  
_“My little sister,"_ he wailed. _“Could I have failed you in any worse way?”_ _  
_  
Ignis found himself walking toward Ravus.  
  
Console him. Just a hand on his shoulder. It’s all he needs. To feel that someone is there for him. If only he had that from the beginning.  
  
Ignis knelt before Ravus, hands cupping the sides of his face to wipe his eyes. They came away wet. Not with tears, but oily black. The Scourge grew monstrous horns from his skull that were not there mere seconds before. Ravus looked up into his face, lips twisted in agony. The Scourge streamed from his eyes, filled his mouth, a bubble popping like spit as he opened wide around a silent scream. It dribbled down his chin, and left fat droplets on Ignis’s hands. _“Please, end me!”_ _  
_  
“Ravus!”  
  
Ignis jolted upright in his bed, breath coming rapidly, eyes searching for phantoms in the dark.  
  
Gladio grunted in his sleep. “Whazzat?”  
  
Just a dream. It was just a dream, he tried to convince himself, and sank down onto his sheets again.  
  
He fought the urge to call Ravus, to check in. The dream left a bad taste in his mouth.  
  
But it didn’t feel like a dream. It felt like a memory, although it didn’t belong to him. A vision.  
  
No.  
  
He turned over. Don’t take it to heart. It’s not real. It’s not real, he repeated like a prayer.  
  
But what if it _is._ _  
_  
He threw off the sheets and snatched his phone from the table. It would be hours ahead in Tenebrae. He retreated into the camper’s bathroom and dialed.  
  
The phone rang.  
  
And rang.  
  
And rang.  
  
His pulse was a smith's hammer against his eardrums. Ravus should have been awake for hours by this time.  
  
Perhaps he was simply occupied?  
  
And then it went to voicemail.  
  
The generic computer generated voice told him to please leave his message after the tone, and Ignis almost slammed his fist into the sink out of frustration, just stopping himself before it made contact. _Fuck shit fuck fuckityshit fuck son of a shit-damn!_ _  
_  
He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth ten times.  
  
He was being irrational, he tried to convince himself. Paranoid. His breath came faster, faster, until he could hear nothing but the woosh of it in his ears. He almost missed the screen of his phone coming alive again with a call.  
  
“Hello?” he blurted hastily.  
  
“Ignis?” Ravus’s voice came through, and Ignis could clearly see his frown in his mind.  
  
“Gods,” he breathed in relief. “You didn’t answer…” he said, mentally kicking himself for what an idiot he must’ve sounded like.  
  
Ravus went silent.  
  
“Are you still there?”  
  
Ravus sighed heavily, and it sent a stream of static through the tinny speaker. “I couldn’t figure out how to answer it, alright? I tapped the green circle, but I think I was meant to slide it instead.”  
  
Ignis covered his face with a hand and dropped down onto the toilet lid. Astrals, strike him down now. “Yes, that’s right. You’re okay, then?”  
  
“... It sounds to me as if I should be the one asking you that question. Should you not be sleeping? Has something happened?”  
  
Ignis leaned his forehead against the cool tile. “No, I’m fine. Thank you, Ravus. Simply checking in. I’ll leave you to it, then.”    
  
Ravus went quiet again, but Ignis knew he was still there from the rustling on the other end.  
  
Whatever Ravus was debating on saying, he eventually settled on a quiet _“Rest, Ignis.”_ _  
_  
And hung up.    
  
  
  
<<>>  
  
  
  
“One, two, three, four, I declare a thumb war!”  
  
Ignis didn’t even realize Ravus used his name for the first time until he replayed the conversation over in his mind hours later.  
  
It was absurdly satisfying.  
  
“Hey! How- you _cheated!”_ Gladio’s mouth formed an astonished little ‘o.’  
  
“Nuh-uh! It’s just my video game training coming to good use, big guy. All those complex thumb movements,” Prompto bounced his brows and mimed holding a controller.  
  
“Children, children, mommy’s trying to savor her morning coffee in peace.” Ignis reminded them.  
  
_"Pfgh."_ _  
_  
Prompto dropped back into his seat and shared a look with Gladio that Ignis immediately knew was going to mean trouble.  
  
“So, you and Ravus. You, uh, getting to know each other better, or somethin’?"  
  
Ignis looked at Gladio blankly.  
  
“Doin' the mystery dance?” Gladio attempted to clarify.  
  
“Oscillating unmentionables?” Prompto piped in.  
  
“We’re just concerned, y’know,” Gladio added.  
  
Ignis set his mug down coolly, calmly. “Might I ask what in the name of the Infernian’s flaming arsehole gave you that idea?”  
  
“Uh, you just seemed like you were getting along pretty well,” Prompto sputtered at the same exact moment Gladio said, “You woke up in the middle of the night yelling his name and then spent a really long time thumping around in the bathroom.”  
  
Ignis’s cheeks heated up at the insinuation. “Well, I can assure you that is not the case!” Judging by Gladio and Prompto’s expressions, however, he suspected any further attempts to explain himself would garner just about as satisfying results as one might expect from a marzipan dildo.  
  
_Please_ , stop thinking about penises at a time like this, Ignis.  
  
Ignis sighed and checked the time. “We should be leaving soon." Miss Cindy and Holly were expecting them this morning, and they'd meet with Cor later in the evening.  
  
The days were getting shorter. They needed to make preparations quickly.  
  
  
  
<<>>  
  
  
  
Ignis couldn’t stop thinking about the dream that was not a dream on the drive over.  
  
Did he heed these dreams, or would he be the wiser to ignore their counsel? For dreams did lie just as he did in the dark.  
  
But these were no average dreams.  
  
The man who looked like him, and Ravus utterly devoured by the Scourge...  
  
It kept eating at him. Was it the Crystal? Was there some residual connection that kept him tethered to its power? But why show him these things? He squinted against the light and adjusted his sunglasses, eyes still incredibly sensitive.  
  
He closed the car door knowing that the answers to his questions would likely remain elusive for quite some time.  
  
Cindy tipped her hat in greeting. “Well, paint me purple and call me a turnip. Wierd seein’ you boys without Noct. How are y’all holdin’ up?”  
  
“As well as we can.” Ignis smiled sadly.  
  
In truth, Ignis felt decidedly bereft without Noctis’s constant presence. Despite the fact that there was no lack of work to be done, he felt he didn’t know what to do with himself.  
  
It was like an itch under his skin he couldn’t scratch, something always just out of the corner of his eye that frequently jerked him from his thoughts.  
  
No Noct to reach out to when he simply craved his closeness, nor to laugh with when he thought of something amusing. He had Gladio and Prompto, of course. But he knew within his deepest self that nothing and no one could replace Noctis in his heart.  
  
But he also dreaded the day he would return to them.  
  
Ignis didn’t want to think about it.  
  
“Let’s get down to business, shall we?” He adjusted his sunglasses out of habit and followed them inside.  
  
  
  
<<>>  
  
  
  
“Thank you, Marshal.” Ignis gave up trying to count the troopers and passed his binoculars back to Cor.  
  
There was nothing they could do for Insomnia.  
  
Even before Cor handed them each a set of binoculars, they all knew.  
  
Imperials had already began setting up outposts in the ruins. Cor asked the Kingsglaive to keep an ear out and study their movements from beneath the city, but there was nothing they could realistically do with the information.  
  
Reclaiming the Crown City would not be possible. Not when they had the crisis of an eternal night coming at them full force, and they were already stretched thin.  
  
Prompto nodded solemnly at the Shield’s side, eyes fixed on the still-smoldering ruins. “We’ll do it, though. We’ll take it back. And we’ll rebuild it all better than ever.”  
  
Even if the odds seemed to be stacked against them, Ignis wanted to believe him.  
  
Because one must learn to dig out the seeds of despair before they had the chance to grow.  
  
  
  
<<>>  
  
  
  
The next few weeks were a flurry of movement as they met with Sania, Dino, Vyv, Aranea, Biggs, Wedge, and Aranea even convinced that little miscreant, Loqi, to lend them a hand. Ignis was also relieved to be able to get in touch with Weskham.  
  
He was worried when he didn’t hear back from him at first, but Weskham reassured them that he was indeed safe, sound, and busy, giving out free, hot meals to survivors.  
  
Ignis was scheduled to travel with Aranea and meet with Ravus again soon, too. They needed lists, names, the number of people in each community that needed help. Ravus was doing his best to reach out to the people personally, but it was no surprise that a great many of them were not so eager to place their trust in him. But the people had come to trust Aranea despite her past affiliations, and she and her growing crew were certainly a force to be reckoned with.  
  
  
  
<<>>  
  
  
  
Scorched silken banners whipped against the early morning breeze, and Ignis stared across the wide expanse of the stone bridge that served to - rather precariously - connect one end of the ravine to the other.  
  
He didn’t remember the bridge to Fenestala Manor making him feel this unsettled as a child…  
  
“Oh, good - Ravus has been waiting for you!”  
  
_Astrals preserve-!_ _  
_  
Ignis startled when a petite older woman appeared at his side.  
  
“Uh?” he began intelligently. “Hello. I didn’t intend to keep him waiting.”  
  
The woman smiled warmly and motioned him forward. “Don’t fret, dear, you’re right on time. Ravus has been anxiously pacing a hole through the floor with those boots of his.”  
  
“I think I know just the ones. Massively pointy, they are.” He looked down at the woman and focused on her hair as it bobbed in its bun, rather than the steep drop into eternity below them.  
  
“I realize you probably don’t remember me,” she continued, unperturbed. “My name is Maria. I’ve served House Fleuret since Ravus was just a boy.”  
  
“Ah - I apologize. I can’t say I do, and it’s an absolute travesty on my part to have forgotten such distinguished charm,” he bowed his head and grinned.  
  
Maria laughed. “Now I understand why Ravus has been so antsy!”  
  
She led him into the manor, carefully guiding him around the construction crew.  
  
The Imperials had rained fire down on Fenestala Manor as revenge against Ravus, specifically, in the aftermath of his efforts to oppose them during the Leviathan’s ire. He supposed they thought promptly sentencing him to death for high treason wasn’t enough. But that was a matter which no longer stood.  
  
As he followed Maria through the winding halls, he couldn’t help but see phantoms of them as children racing up and down the corridors. In the back of his mind, a voice told him that he knew this route.  
  
It appeared much of the bottom half of the castle was not too severely affected. The damage was concentrated on the upper floors.  
  
“He’s in Lady Lunafreya’s room,” Maria confirmed, and knocked lightly on the polished double-doors. She barely withdrew her hand before the doors swung inward.  
  
“Scientia.” Ravus took a moment to look him over, and when nothing seemed amiss, he ushered Ignis inside. “Thank you, Maria. That will be all.”  
  
The older woman smiled serenely and left them to it.  
  
Ignis was startled to see the room was pristine - from the polished glass of the large windows, to the curling silver thread of her duvet, and the gleaming tiled floor - all utterly untouched by the fire.  
  
Books seemed to cover every available surface.  
  
“These were her journals.” Ravus followed his eye. A hand hovered over the leather-bound books as if afraid he would soil them with his touch, but then tentatively ran a thumb over the spines. “I have never looked inside them. We did not often have the luxury of solitude, so she enjoyed her privacy where she could… She risked her safety each and every time she wrote in them - there was always the chance someone would discover them - but I could never convince her to stop. She didn’t have much in the ways of true companionship as it was. She needed them.”  
  
Ravus sighed and gingerly lowered himself into a seat at a small table near the windows. “I’ve prepared tea. It should be an acceptable temperature by now.” He served them both, and Ignis noticed a slight tremble in his wrist. The bags under his eyes were not as pronounced as they were in Altissia, but still evident.  
  
Ignis took the offered cup out of courtesy; he detested tea. “I must say, I’m surprised to see the room in such good condition.”  
  
“Lunafreya’s is one of few rooms the flames did not touch. My own is completely destroyed. Much of the rest of the upper floors… Where the fire did not devour or leave blackened by smoke, mold left its own mark. The topmost floors will need to be ripped apart and gutted if they are ever to be used again.”  
  
Ravus seemed lost in thought. “I can’t help but think it means something,” he whispered nearly to himself. “Perhaps... a reminder that Lunafreya still yet lives on in some ways as well, in each of those whose lives she touched. In memories, in the future she paved, in the courage to believe that a future does exist that is not marred by corruption and grief.” Ravus seemed to shake himself and took a sip of his tea. “Or perhaps I am only attempting to rationalize this in a manner that will allow me to cope with the consequences of my own depravity.”  
  
Ravus flexed his metal hand absently around the cup. "Where would she have been if I hadn’t done it? If I hadn’t agreed? What would have become of her then?” he wondered aloud, but expected no answer.  
  
Ignis wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, but he knew he should be doing something. One of them ended up on Ravus’s forearm where it rested on the table, and he was sure that wasn’t a very convincing spot at all.  
  
Ravus flinched under his hand. Ignis withdrew and went on. “Guilt can paralyze, and despair will only impede your ability to improve. If you wish to make things right, you must get up and start with those around you. I’ve long since realized that pity gets you nowhere. Remember your sister’s strength, Ravus. She certainly had enough for all of us.”  
  
Ravus fixed him to the spot with a long look. Something flickered, a switch was flipped. “You are wise beyond your years, Scientia... This makes four times now you’ve given me pause.”  
  
“Well, someone ought to be the wiser- _wait, four?_  What’s this tally you’ve been keeping?”  
  
“That’s confidential.”  
  
Ignis frowned. “I think I deserve to know when I’m being properly inspirational.”  
  
“I do not wish to fatten your ego. Let the mystery of it humble you,” Ravus said rather snidely.  
  
“I suppose I can let it go for now, only because your own ego is already hulking enough for the both of us,” he poked back.  
  
_But I will know eventually._  
  
Ignis found himself smiling and straightened. This was not meant to be a chat between friends; they had work to do. “So, what’s this you mentioned over the phone about some strange goings-on? Something about a quarry?”  
  
Ravus refilled his tea gravely. “There is a mine near Pagla. An influx of daemons have been reported spilling out of it, and are terrorizing the residents there. They’re not wealthy either - they’re a small fishing community. If the constant fear wasn’t enough, they don’t have the means to repair their homes and equipment when the daemons inevitably wreak havoc at night…” Ravus’s eyes settled on him, then shifted away quickly. “I was hoping you might accompany me. I’d like to meet with the fishermen and women soon - either today or tomorrow - and see what can be done. There are few I trust to join me in battle should things go awry with these daemons.”  
  
“Of course, I will go with you. I say let’s do it today. It sounds like these people have dealt with this predicament long enough.” He tapped the table with finality and rose from his seat.

 


	3. Enter, Fate

The sun reflected off the great mirror of the Sathersea and Ignis winced against the glare.

“How are your eyes?”

“In truth, I’ve never seen better.” The world was so much sharper and more vibrant after Noct used the Crystal’s power to heal him. “I don’t even need my regular spectacles anymore. But my eyes are also extraordinarily sensitive to bright lights, now. I can only hope it’s a side effect that will wane with time. Until then, these sunglasses help.”

The sharp scent of the salty sea filled his nose, and a heavy heat clung to his back like a tangible thing. A woman looked up from where she was trying to pry her boat back into shape, clearly tremendously displeased to see them.

“The traitor returns,” she said, and wiped her hands on a grease-stained rag.

“We’re here to inquire about the recent daemon attacks,” Ignis cut in.

The woman gestured to her boat. “They come out of the mine at night and wreck our property. This has never happened before!” she lamented, at a total loss. “We can’t make a living like this!” She wrung her rag in frustration.

“And we understand, so we are here to help.” Ravus stepped forward, body held tense.

Ignis nodded determinedly. “Can you tell us anything else - anything you noticed around the time this first occurred?”

She chewed her lip. “I don’t mean to sound like one of those wild conspiracy theorists… But I think it all started when those guys came through.”

“What guys?” Ravus asked. She clearly had not mentioned them before.

“The - y’know, the Leviathan guys. All those cultists that sprang up outta nowhere when the Hydraean woke up. I guess it was a shock to the system for a lot of people - that she really does exist. A real, live, God that we’ve prayed to forever, but didn’t know if she _actually_ …" Her gaze was drawn to the sea. "If she actually could hear us. Now, many see her as a vengeful God meant to be feared and appeased, not one who we can pray to for support.” She shook her head. “They passed through town recently. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I didn’t wanna jump to no conclusions, but sometimes things are just too strange to be coincidences.”

Ignis thumbed his bottom lip in contemplation. “Thank you. We appreciate you giving us your time. I do hope we can return with good news soon.”

He pulled Ravus aside, and they walked down the pebbled path away from the village. “This has taken quite an odd turn of events, has it not?”

“Almost too odd to believe,” Ravus rubbed his face and sighed harshly. “What are you thinking? Check the mine and see if any of these cultists are nearby?”

“Yes, precisely.” He sent a cautious glance at Ravus. “Although, I’d hate to think of what they may be up to that would cause such an increase in daemonic activity.”

“I will protect you.”

Ignis shot Ravus another look. He would’ve taken the remark for sarcasm had he not seen the sincerity in his expression.

“And I, you.”

From the outside, everything seemed normal, quiet, as if the mine and its surroundings had not been disturbed for many years.

But once they entered the darkened cavern, it was indisputable that something foul was brewing.

“You feel that, right?” Ignis whispered.

“Unfortunately.”

Ignis cast his eyes around in the shadows, sight heightened even in the dark. “A moment.” He fumbled against the rock wall until he found what he was looking for: a circuit breaker switch, and the area was bathed in a dull light.

A clear path of pale stone opened up before them.

“Should we?” Ignis glared at the path, the feeling of absolute wrongness growing stronger by the second, infesting their senses. It clung to his skin like a layer of larvae, tangled in his hair like rotting weeds, and stuck to the backs of his teeth like cement.

“Probably not,” Ravus responded flatly and strode forward, boots clanking loudly against the rocky passage.

The stench of decay only became more pungent as they went deeper. The thick and foul air clutched at their lungs like spindly fingers. It brushed against the tiniest hairs on their hands and the backs of their necks like something _alive_ and _waiting._

It seemed all senses shrank and narrowed down to a pinhole that was this single, cloying scent.

Ignis had no idea how much time had passed. An hour? Two? A day?

He was bodily yanked from his thoughts when Ravus suddenly grabbed him by his blazer and hauled him off the path.

Pain flared through his shoulder blades as Ravus wedged them into a narrow crevasse in the wall and clapped a hand over Ignis’s mouth.

Heterochromatic eyes beseeched his silence, and that’s when he heard it.

Dragging.

The rhythmic sound of _drag, thump, drag, thump_ got closer, and closer still, and Ignis’s dread grew until it was a towering thing, swaying and pitching over his head. A strange and lurking malice.

And then a hooded figure came into view. A moment of acute horror stole his lungs as the figure stalled just before the crevasse, and Ravus flattened himself further over Ignis.

He thought he could feel Ravus’s heart beating just as rapidly as his own.

A millisecond could have gone by, less, but it felt like eons before the figure continued forward, dragging the corpse of some unfortunate soul.

Ravus eased off him.

 _“Follow?”_ Ignis mouthed.

A nod, and they slipped out of the gap without a sound.

Tracking was made both easier and all the more gruesome by the long trail of something dark and viscous left behind.

It was not blood.

Ignis knew it didn’t need to be said. As line of the Oracle and someone who had served under Ardyn’s thumb for quite some time, he was certain Ravus knew the Scourge when he saw it, too.

They approached a sharp corner and Ignis was struck again by a different sort of overwhelming of the senses. A hand flew to his temple.

A song, resonant and ghostly filled his ears, reminiscent of one running their fingers over the lip of a glass.

Words, letters, syllables, overlapped, fragmented, tore through his skull, and flew everywhere.

Ravus’s metal hand clamped around his wrist - to support him, or support Ravus, or both - squinting and blinking through the pain. It was all they could do.

The voices ceased when the trail led them to something resembling an antechamber.

Before a gaping maw in the floor stood the cloaked figure. And the sound seemed to be coming from deep within.

Without a single care, the figure flung the body down into the hole.

And then turned to face them.

The man’s gaze was dark, dead, empty, glazed over.

“Who are you, and what have you done here?” Ravus demanded.

The man paid him no mind. He was fixated on Ignis, alone.

 _“Oh! Your eyes_ \- you’ve been touched by the divine power of the Gods, themselves - ha!” He stepped closer to Ignis, and Ravus’s hand preemptively went to the hilt of his sword.

“Not another step.”

“I need them - for my research.” The man reached a withered hand up to his own eyes. “It’s important, you see. I must have them.”

The man took another step forward, and Ignis stepped back, hands held placatingly in front of him. He shot Ravus a look of trepidation.

“I said _stay back.”_ Ravus snarled and unsheathed his sword, the metal glinting dangerously in the dim lighting.

“I will have them!” The man roared just as fiercely and ran at them.

Ignis called his daggers to his hands, drawing them up before himself and bracing for the clash, but a flash of white tackled the man to the ground.

“Fucking unbelievable,” Ravus mumbled as the man struggled to throw Ravus off. “You are fortunate I’ve decided not to gut you where you stand.” Ravus held the man one-handed and Ignis kicked him some loose rope to bind his wrists.   

Ravus hauled the man up, and Ignis inched closer. “What is it you’ve been doing down here, and why was that man infected with the Scourge?”

The strange man tried to wrench himself out of Ravus’s grip to no avail. “My research - the relic must be preserved,” he squirmed. “The Tide Mother must be honored and appeased!”

Ignis folded his arms and tried to decide where to even start. “Research into what, exactly?”

He spat. “Even touched by the divine power as you are, you could never begin to comprehend the gravity of this quest!”

“We don’t have time for this,” Ravus rolled his eyes. “Where are the rest of you? The townspeople said they saw a group.”

The man smiled a greasy smile, eyes sliding to the hole. “They gave their life for a good cause.” Then he looked to Ignis. “But now I’m fresh out of research partners.”

Ravus made a noise of utter disgust. “You will show us this relic.”

“... And then I may have… a _sample?_ ” He shot a shifty look at Ignis again.

“And then you may have my foot up your-”

“Ravus,” Ignis interjected sternly. “No, I’m afraid not. But we will also not kill you. Be glad for that, at least. You will be turned over to the proper authorities once we are done. Now, please, lead the way.”

“Your arrogance will be your undoing,” the man grunted and tugged Ravus in the direction of another path.

“What is that ringing sound?” Ignis asked as he tried to block it out. It seemed to come and go.

“We call it the Litany of the Tide Mother. She sings to show us the way.”

The light dissipated as they went, but the song grew _stronger_. They navigated the tunnel through sound alone as it became increasingly difficult to make out one shadow from the next, and more than once, Ignis almost stumbled over long-abandoned bundles of wooden planks piled haphazardly along the walls.

Bugs and rodents skittered in the exposed ribcage of the scaffolding as the cavern moaned hauntingly around them. 

And then a shadow more opaque than the rest unfurled wide and dark around a corner.

“Bastard!” Ravus snapped, and the man laughed as the creature wheezed and gurgled, bringing itself up to its full and vast cyclopean height.

_Yes, just hilarious._

“The only place I will be taking us is to our own gruesome demise, you _unworthy brat!”_ The man wrenched free and ran at the daemon, collapsing in a heap when it’s broad fist crushed him into the stone wall.

It turned its massive head toward them slowly, one side caved-in like rotting fruit, and Ignis’s eyes watered at the odor. Thick strings of pinkened spittle oozed from its mouth as it growled primally.   

“Not to belabor the obvious,” Ignis called his daggers to his hands and sheathed them in flame, “but I suppose we can only blame ourselves for not seeing this coming.”

Ravus was at his side in an instant, for they had grown strong from struggle, and closer from it. The memory of fighting what seemed to be the entirety of the magitek army back-to-back readily ****surfaced in Ignis’s mind.

The daemon beat his fists on the ground like drums of war and charged at them.

They spun out of the way. “Rampant slaughter in a picturesque death-hovel such as this? A truly earth-shattering revelation,” Ravus answered flatly as lightning sparked and writhed around his metal fist. He slammed it into the daemon’s chest, leaving it momentarily paralyzed.

“Ravus Nox Fleuret, was that an attempt at humor?” Ignis sliced at the daemon’s legs.

“I admit, it was a risk.”

“Yes, it was quite frightening.” Ignis summoned a flask of fire and hurled it at the daemon. It roared as the flames blackened its saggy hide to a crisp, and crumpled to the floor.

“Hmph. Well done.” Ravus sheathed his sword and surveyed their surroundings.

“My, my. Is that the next tier compliment up from _resilience_?” In all honesty, Ignis was taken aback by the praise. He knew Ravus did not give it freely.

“I never thought you a fragile thing made of glass, Scientia. Now, let us be resilient in _that_ direction.” He scowled down a forked path. “The old man said to follow the song, did he not? Sadly, I think we need to keep going.”

Ignis rubbed his nose and nodded warily. “I suppose you’re right.”

_There was surely no better way to spend the evening than delving into an unstable, crumbling chasm following the alleged psychic song of a sea goddess…_

Ignis pointed to a metal box. “That looks like another circuit breaker switch. We could do with some light, and it’ll hopefully keep any more daemons at bay while we try to figure out what’s going on here.”

Just then, fingers wrapped around the hem of his pants, sending him tumbling into the hard stone.

_It was still alive!_

“Fend him off!” Ravus shouted and tore away.

Ignis sent a kick into its smoldering face, feeling the embers singe his pants and heat his skin, and Ravus leaped for the switch.

A moment of pure panic rocketed up his spine as the light only flickered sluggishly, but then a wash of yellow flooded the area.

The daemon reared back, meaty fists covering its eyes as it sizzled in the light, and then finally dissipated.

Ignis staggered to his feet, a metal arm hooking around his elbow to steady him.

_Well, that could have gone worse._

_But the night was young._

They crossed uneven, garbage-strewn pathways smeared with writing in a language neither of them were familiar with. Ignis took photos of each set of phrases so he could refer back to them if need be.

The sound - _the litany_ \- became louder, and louder, still, clearer and less distorted by the natural echo of the cave, until the path closed off completely.

A single room waited at the end.

“If I’m not mistaken, this room should be right below the antechamber.”

“After you,” Ignis bowed at the waist and waved Ravus inside.

The stone seemed smoother; layers of strata swirled like clouds trapped within the rock. A small pool of water bent light to sway and undulate around patterns like abstract paintings on the far wall. It passed over a series of odd little effects: jars of herbs and little gems, over bones and beads. The desk was flanked by cases of tattered journals and occult scripts, and the shelves bowed under their collective weight. Ravus thumbed through the stacks of papers while _something_ drew Ignis to the pool like a magnet.

There was something down there. It called out to him. He needed to free it. _He_ needed it. There, twinkling - glinting and winking out from the darkness. He submerged his arm up to his elbow, but it was a bit further. Just a bit further. His ear touched the water, his cheek.

“Ignis?”

He held his breath and his head went under - it was right there. Important.

Icy white hands found the back of his neck, dragged a slimy fingernail down his spine that chilled him to the bone. _No, no, he needed it._

He’d completely submerged himself, swimming down, down, toward the _pull_.

A massive statue waited for him at the very bottom, but that was not it. Wedged in a hollow near the base of the statue was the glinting promise, the gripping need. He clawed at it, wrenched it free and held it to his chest, felt its warmth humming through his skin.

_Yes… That was the feeling._

He held it firmly as he swam to the surface, and felt the trance-like state slip.

But so, too, returned his other senses - and they told him he _couldn't breathe_. He thrashed, becoming frantic as his lungs seized. He could see the top of the water. Bubbles escaped his lips.

He was so heavy.

A pair of hands, metal and flesh, broke the water’s surface and heaved him upwards. He flopped onto the smooth stone and rolled onto his side, gasping and coughing violently as his chest and throat burned.

 _“What the hell was that?”_ Ravus shrieked.

Ignis’s hands trembled when he raised them to show Ravus the prism. The song quieted. “I don’t know. Something possessed me to go down there and get this,” he rasped.

It was warm to the touch, and seemed to somehow reverberate in his palm. The pigments didn’t seem right to his eyes - like colors he couldn’t quite comprehend. He looked into its depths, and the world seemed to coalesce into a strange place, fluid and amorphous, full of symbols he’d never witnessed before, nor did he know the goal of. Runes glowed and swayed in rings at seemingly random points in an interminable space of smoke, and stained glass, and oceans, and galaxies.

“This… colorful rock told you to drown yourself.”

Ignis shivered as the cold gripped him through his soaked clothes and sat up carefully. “It must be what those cultists were trying to understand. There was an immense statue down there as well. Of whom, I cannot say. It didn’t look like anything or anyone I’ve ever seen.” He held the prism out to Ravus, who didn’t seem to be nearly as impressed with it. “It _must_ be important.” His teeth chattered. “We should look into what it might be.”

Ravus looked from him to the prism dubiously. “Alright,” he mumbled. “Then we should take their notes as well. We’ll need _some_ basis of understanding - or, at least, _their_ basis of understanding,” and began undoing the clasps on his coat. “Take that off,” he ordered, and Ignis peeled off his blazer. He didn’t even argue when Ravus draped his coat over him.

They bundled up as many journals and loose pages as they could, and made the long trek back to the surface.

 _“Oof.”_ Ignis dropped down onto the sandy beach.

The sun was up.

No wonder he was so exhausted. They were in that mine all night. “Let’s _not_ do this again.”

“I assure you, I agree, wholeheartedly.”

A laugh bubbled out of Ignis when it hit him - he was wearing Ravus’s coat, which meant _Ravus wasn’t._ “So, that’s what you’ve been hiding under here,” Ignis grinned and flapped the white fabric. All Ravus wore beneath his armor-plated legs and elaborate coat were simple, black, fitted fatigues similar to Noctis’s usual attire. It seemed wholly anticlimactic. “Ha!”

Ravus blushed furiously and _‘tsked.’_

“Just hurry up and dry off, will you?”

“Feeling rather exposed, are we?”

“No!”

Ignis held back a smile as he looked out into the end of the sunrise, and combed the hair plastered to his face backward with his fingers. “At least we can tell the locals they shouldn’t have to worry about daemons or cultists in that mine anymore… or _daemon cultists_ , for that matter.”

Ravus nodded solemnly.

Even if he was hesitant to admit it, they both knew this had opened up new doors for them. They just weren’t sure how yet.


	4. Chapter 4

“Mmph…” Ignis arched on the bed and felt around blindly for his phone. He slapped it to his ear, not bothering to open his eyes.

“Iggy!”

“Yes, Prompto?”

“Y’know that- wait. _Woah_ , were you sleeping?”

“' _Were’_ being the key word there, I suppose. Ravus and I were both feeling quite worn after the night’s events, so we agreed to sleep in today.”

“Oooh, sounds shivery.”

“Prompto, you know that’s not what I…” He turned over and let the phone rest on the side of his face. “I’m assuming you called for some reason.”

“Oh, uh, yeah!” the blonde chuckled, and Ignis heard a door close on the other end. “Just wanted to give you an update. Me, the big guy, and Iris, are heading back to Lestallum now. A bunch of the Glaives Cor was working with are there. They’re teaming up to find meteorshards to power Lucis. Cor’s been traveling around finding more potential recruits to help out, too. Things are starting to look a little brighter with everyone gettin’ organized. Get it, _brighter?_ ” he laughed and Ignis grinned into the sheets.

“I’ve been following their work closely. You and Gladio have been putting in your fair share of hours as well with those deliveries. I’ll be heading to Accordo soon, and then make my way back to Lucis.”

“Try not to overdo it, Iggster. You can’t help people when you’re running on empty, yourself… I mean, how _are_ you doing?”

His heart sank like a forgotten party balloon slowly losing its air.

Ignis hated that question. He was always _fine_ just until it was asked. Because then it reminded him that he _wasn't._

“I miss him, Prompto.” He sighed, and pressed the pads of his thumb and forefingers into his eyes until kaleidoscope patterns blossomed on the insides of his lids. “I cannot explain my state of mind at this point in time beyond that.”

“Yeah.” Prompto went quiet on the other end.

Ignis sat up gingerly and took the opportunity to change the subject. “I may also stay in Tenebrae for slightly longer than planned if you all seem to have things well under control in Lucis. Ravus and I found something that I’d like to look into. I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up, but I believe it could be beneficial to our cause.”

Ignis heard the familiar rumble of Gladio’s voice in the background as they packed the car.

“Yeah? What is it?” Prompto asked, skepticism weighing his tone down.

“It is…” He wasn’t sure. All he knew was he felt its power keenly. It was kindred to something indescribable deep within his soul. “A colorful rock…”

“ _Pfft._ We’ve got a big one of _those_ here, Iggy. Noct’s a-snoozin’ in it.”

“Yes, but this is a little one,” he smirked and sandwiched the phone between his shoulder and ear as he rummaged through his suitcase for a clean pair of pants.

“Pics! Pics! Pics!” Prompto chanted.

“Alright - let me hang up and I’ll send you a few. Keep in touch.”

He set his bag on the bed and pulled out the prism. Prompto’s allusion to the Crystal got him thinking.

How old was this relic, exactly, and how did it come into creation?

He set it on the twilight blue sheets and snapped a picture, giving the prism a stern look when the photograph only captured an intense glare. He tried it again and got the same result.

_Camera shy, are we?_

He picked it up and an electric charge soared up his arm. The fixtures above him crackled and burst, glass raining down around him. He saw mist above the trees in mountainous forests, valleys that stretched on for eons, and beyond that, a city of gold that seemed to be built among the clouds. Fire, meteors, darkness, death. A prison cut off from the world where no light could reach.

“Ignis!”

He shook himself and dropped the prism. It bounced to the floor and the light fixtures fizzled into silence.

Ignis stepped around the shattered glass quickly but carefully on bare feet and opened the door for Ravus. “Yes?”

 _“Yes?”_ Ravus parrotted just a tad hysterically, and waved his hands in a sweeping gesture around the room which Ignis rightly interpreted as _‘What the shit?’_

Many perceived Ravus as stone-faced and unfeeling, but Ignis was quickly beginning to gather that there was not another person he knew who was more emotional.

However, Ravus’s reaction was probably warranted in this case.

“Ah.” He looked back at the glass that littered the floor, the blackened fixtures. “My apologies. I'm perfectly alright," and he lightly stepped out into the hallway to protect his feet. "I attempted to photograph the prism, and when I touched it, the lights exploded. Quite uncalled for, I'd say." He smoothed the hair from his face. "It also showed me something.”

Ravus rubbed his eyes and sighed. “You were _not_ joking about the headaches, Scientia.”

He shrugged. “Trouble has always seemed to follow us both. It only makes sense that there be twice as much when we’re together.”

Ravus’s face morphed into a veritable matrix of complex expressions in the span of mere seconds, mumbled under his breath, and then stalked away. He returned moments later with two brooms and a dustpan.

“What did it show you?”

“If I’m not mistaken, I believe it was Solheim and its fall. Which, to me, would suggest that this relic is at least that old.”

Ravus hummed. “I started looking through those notes. They _smell_ , by the way. The cultists believed the statue beneath the water to be the Hydrean in her truest form. A remnant of Solheim, long submerged; it likely once acted as an altar for worship. They found the prism by pure happenstance, but were unable to reach it.” He sent Ignis a sideways look. “None were foolhardy enough to believe they could swim the distance to the bottom.”

“To be fair, it really didn’t seem like that far a distance at the time.”

He dumped a pan full of glass in the bin. It was to be expected that people whose livelihoods relied on their close proximity to the sea revered the Hydrean above all other Astrals. Altissia especially was known for their numerous depictions of the goddess: the angelic statues around the city and the monument depicting her as a whale, for example, were attractions well-known all across Eos. The painting of the prophecy at the Citadel likewise depicted her as a mermaid. It came as no great shock that the statue he saw was likely yet another manifestation or artistic interpretation.

“And what of the Scourge? What Gods-awful scheme was he attempting to pull off with that?”

Ravus dumped his glass in a waste bin as well. “I didn’t get that far. But it appears to be an effect of some ritual. It seems the awakening of the Gods impelled them to take their beliefs to new heights.”

Ignis dropped to one knee next to the bed once they were finished.

“Uh. What are you looking for?”

“The lost city of Atlantis... _The prism, obviously!”_ He felt around for the bulbous shape. He was sure it rolled under when he dropped it. “A-ha!” Ignis straightened and placed it back in the zippered pouch of his bag.

“Great," Ravus uttered hoarsely and turned. “Now, please, put on some pants and meet me in the kitchen.”

 

<<>>

 

Ignis found Ravus holding up the fridge and poring over one of the journals when he made his way downstairs.

The toaster popped up, and Ravus barely took his eyes off the page as he piled the toast on a plate and set it on the little table for them both. “Coffee’s ready in the pot.”

 _Oh, thank the Gods._ Ignis didn’t think he could survive much longer on tea.

“Look at this,” Ravus slid the book across to him. Symbols covered the page from margin to margin in a labored hand, as if each stroke took tremendous effort. “The entire book is full of it. There's more in the others.”

“My word.” He flipped through the pages and fished out his phone. “I think this language may be the same one we saw on the walls.” He swiped through his photo album until he found the shots he was looking for, and held the phone next to the open page.

They were one and the same. _But what did it mean?_ “I bet you we would do well to translate this. I think I know a few people we could try to contact who may be able to lend us a hand.”

He snapped a photo and sent it to his group chat with Prompto and Gladio along with a set of instructions. If anyone knew anything about this, he bet it was one of three women: Dr. Yeagre, or the once-estranged sisters, Ezma and Kimya Auburnbrie. Luckily, all were set to be in Lestallum as well.

 ** _[Prompto]_** _: Roger that!_

 ** _[Prompto]_** _: But where’s the little rock, dude?_

 ** _[Gladiolus]_** _: Rocks? Prob getting ‘em off with Ravioli._

 ** _[Gladiolus]_** _: Ravus**_

 ** _[Gladiolus]_** _: Autocorrect. SMH._

 ** _[Prompto]_** _: Heh. Guess you could say he’s between a /rock/ and a /hard place./  lololololol._

 ** _[Ignis]_** _: I hate you both._

 ** _[Ignis]_** _: Need I remind you that he and I are NOT involved?_

 ** _[Prompto]_** _: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_

 ** _[Prompto]_** _: <3 <3 <3 <3 _

 

“Well?”

Ignis looked up from his phone and pocketed it again quickly. “They’ll keep us informed.”

_It would be days before any answer came, however._

He combed through the writings meticulously. Every free moment they had was spent studying the journals day and night, to no avail. He’d hoped to find a cipher somewhere, but it seemed no such thing existed among the multitude of yellowed and waterlogged pages… He was beginning to feel his hope waning, replaced by a frantic sort of desperation. The song - he’d understood it in that moment when he touched the prism under the water, and felt the knot of his conundrum fall slack, chaos and complexity coming undone, the wall of serpents that kept him from his solution finally unraveling to reveal the answer. They needed this.

The sharpened fingers of a gauntlet clanked against the table.

“You cannot keep this up. You need to rest.”

Ignis looked up at Ravus, hands clamping tighter around the pages. “What I  _need_ is to find a way to help Noct,” he ground out, eyes stinging from fatigue. “No one has any idea how long he will remain within the Crystal, but what I _do_ know is that I must be ready. And that means I will need to have found a way to save him from his fate by the time he does return.” He took a deep breath to steady his heart rate. “I thought you would be able to understand that.”

Something barbed and knowing flashed across Ravus’s face, and he lowered himself into a seat.

He moved the book out of Ignis’s grasp with a look that left no room for arguments.

“What is your goal, Ignis? What is your _prize?_ ”

Ignis glowered daggers at him. “Is it not damningly obvious? To see the day Noct ascends as king - to have him back safe and sound. Is allowing the light of dawn to return to our planet and eradicating the Scourge not enough?”

“I should expect no other answer from you. But that is not what I am asking,” Ravus heaved a world-weary sigh. “Dig deeper. What is your prize - something solely for _you_ that you can look forward to? It needn’t be revolutionary. It does not even need to be meaningful or satisfying for anyone but yourself.”

“You’re asking me to be selfish.”

“I am asking you for _nothing_ other than to remember that you have promise outside of what you can give of yourself to other people.”

Ravus reached out and placed his fingertips to Ignis’s arm, just barely there, and he looked so sincere, so determined. “Read through the journals. I will help you, just as you’ve helped me, but there is only so much you or I can humanly do without the translation. I can already see doubt growing inside you. Do not treat this as if it is some failure on your part.”

“I can’t fail,” he all but whispered.

“And you never have,” Ravus soldiered on, not placatingly, but sternly, matter-of-factly. “I will not stop you from doing what you truly see is fit. But you of all people deserve to feel happiness that is not based on anyone else’s benefit of your life.” His metal fist clenched on the table. “In fact, you’ve _already_ given even that. It is only through uncanny timing that you sit here today.” His voice rose, although not unkindly, punctuating the things Ignis had long since decided did not matter, although they clearly did to Ravus. Each word was a gong that struck at the very crux of his soul.

Because sometimes Ignis did feel like he was not his own person. And sometimes, he did not even have the time or luxury to have such thoughts.

He was just a boy, himself, when he was essentially tasked with raising the future king and all that went along with ensuring his well-being. He was expected to immerse himself in the role of a well-bred and dignified young man who knew how to flawlessly wear the mask of whomever he needed to be that day, that very second.

But such things were not sustainable. Wear too many masks for too long, and you start to forget what your true face looks like.

He liked to think he was strong, capable, reliable. But sometimes… _it was just too much,_ and none of it stopped him from feeling like his world was a narrow lense at times, as if he were a horse wearing blinders.

Ignis was not bitter. He did love his job, and he loved Noct unconditionally. He loved Gladio and Prompto. Regis had been more than his King - he was a cherished father figure while his own was so distant.

 

But something deep within his chest still clawed at the glimmer behind Ravus’s words. He'd not done such a thing in quite some time. With so many pressing matters seemingly closing in on them all at once, it was easy for simple things like that to get placed on the backburner, so to speak. It often made him feel guilty to do anything that would be viewed as unnecessarily self-indulgent, no matter how small.

“I… I am not sure where to even begin anymore.”

“It’s nothing so difficult, Ignis. Just make time to do something that pleases you. At the beginning of the day, set that as your goal for when your work is done - something to look forward to. As I recall, you were once especially fond of stargazing.”

Ignis nodded and placed his hand over the one on his arm in thanks. “I still am.” He was touched Ravus remembered such a thing from their childhood. “Will you join me?”

Ravus hesitated. His hand slid out from under Ignis’s. “If you wish.”

Ignis felt his expression fall. “Don’t feel obliged. I just-”

“No - I would be happy to. Come with me.” And he led the way down a path lined by the huge, twisting trunks of ancient trees, moss clinging thickly to their rugged bodies. They ended up at a small terrace just beyond Fenestala Manor.

The wide open sky somehow seemed even more splendid here. Cicadas chirped noisily in the trees, and lightning bugs winked lazily from their perches amidst the manicured hedges. Ignis settled down onto the thin cushion tied around the seats, and leaned his head back as far as he could. He wanted to take in as much as possible.

“It’s marvelous…” he breathed in awe.

A lightning bug flew sluggishly overhead to appreciate the vines twined around the trellises.

“They’re not native to most parts of Lucis, you know.”

“Fireflies?” Ravus reached up and effortlessly cupped one in his hands.

A split second passed where Ignis was worried the insect would be harmed, but then Ravus opened his palms and it crawled onto the side of his finger.  

_“Oh.”_

He held his breath and cautiously took his phone from his breast pocket. “Hold still.” He snapped a photo just as its little abdomen flashed, and a smile split his face nearly in two. He looked up at Ravus, and saw a fond smile there as well.

It took to the air again, and rejoined the synchronized pattern of the others just beyond the trellis.

Ravus rested his elbows on the back of the seat. Ignis never saw him look so at home. He looked as if he actually belonged here, at peace, rather than like he was always searching for the blade of some hidden assailant.

“Lunafreya and I would come out here when we were children, before everything, and try to name them all. She would always try to come up with the most ridiculous name possible, and I’d try to top it. That was the game.”

Ignis’s smile turned sad at the mention of Luna. “What was the best name you two ever came up with?”

Ravus pursed his lips. “Timmy.”

_“Timmy?”_

“Timmy.” Ravus nodded. “That was his nickname. His full name was Timmy-Timmy-Timmy-Timmy-Timmy-Timmy-Timmy-Timmy-” Ravus counted them off on his fingers, “Timmy-Timmy-Timmy- _Timmy_. We added progressively more ‘Timmys’ to his name as time went on, and it was meant to be pronounced in the much higher falsetto of a prepubescent boy.”

Ignis guffawed into his hand, and then he couldn’t stop - the laughter came rumbling up from his chest, and he braced his hands on his knees as tears blurred his eyes. “Naturally.” He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and grinned up at the stars.

“Thank you for this, Ravus.”

Ignis went to sleep with a smile on his face, and there it remained when he woke.

He all but skipped down to the kitchen, eager to cook in a way he hadn’t been for quite a while. Ignis didn’t even realize he wasn’t feeling like himself until he _was_ again _._

“Why are you awake?” Ravus rubbed his face and sipped his tea.

“Why are you?”

“I am not.”

Ignis smirked and set a measuring cup on the counter. “Oh, good. More for me, then.”

A beat passed, and Ravus appeared over his shoulder. “What exactly are you making?”

“Will you tell me about those four inspirational moments now?”

“No.”

“So, let the mystery of it humble you. At least for a little while,” he winked and stirred in some eggs.

“You’ve been waiting to use that line on me.”

“Absolutely. Patiently, vigilantly.”

“You’re impossible,” his lips twitched upwards.

“But also fairly inspirational,” Ignis nudged Ravus aside with his hip and grabbed a bowl full of ulwaat berries from the fridge. “Now, fetch me some flour.”

Ravus handed him the sack.

Ignis’s brain short-circuited and did an emergency reboot.

It took him a moment of staring at the hand before him to realize what was missing.

“You haven’t got your armor on!”

Ravus rolled his eyes extravagantly. “It _does_ come off, you know.” He set the flour down on the counter and held his magitek hand out, palm up, for Ignis to look over. “I remove the outer armor for bed. Contrary to popular belief, I _am_ human, and need to sleep occasionally… although, it does not come as often as I’d like.”

“Huh…”

Ignis hummed thoughtfully. While he inherently knew that was perfectly reasonable, it was still hard to imagine Ravus looking any different than the immaculate and unyielding figure carved from stone that he’d always held in his mind.

“You’re in a strange mood today,” Ravus squinted.

“The word you’re looking for is _‘content.’_ Novel, I know. But it seems some stars and bioluminescent insects will do wonders to brighten my spirits.”

“If I would have known fireflies, of all things, made you happy, I would have filled your room with them days ago. Rip the roof off while I’m at it.” Ravus grumbled and dropped into a seat at the table.

Ignis straightened so quickly he almost burned his hand on the oven. He shot a look over his shoulder, but Ravus’s attention was elsewhere, seemingly lost in thought.

He knew Ravus was only poking fun, but the sentiment - the implication - had him reeling.

Minutes ticked by where he had no clue how to respond, and Ravus seemed completely oblivious of that fact.

Ignis removed his creation from the oven and handed him a fork. “Dig in - this is meant to be eaten quickly as it deflates.”

He watched as Ravus cut into it, watched his expression for a tense moment as he took the first bite, and then smiled in relief when bliss spread across his features.

 _That_ was his favorite part of cooking - knowing that those who tried his dishes enjoyed them enough to savor. While he did relish the opportunity to cook purely for the sake of cooking, his own sense of satisfaction was _also_ directly derived from the pleasure others took from his food. And with that, Ignis happily cut into his own piece.

Which was when his phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Iggy.” It was Gladio. “We got some good news, and some bad news.”

“Alright, let’s hear it,” he said and took another forkful.

“'Kay. So, get a load of this. We met up with Sania, Ezma, and Kimya, here in Lestallum, right? After some going back and forth, they came to the conclusion that it’s gotta be one of the earliest known dialects from Ancient Solheim. I guess that’s the good news: they figured out what language it is.”

“And the bad?” He asked tentatively, bracing for the let-down.

He glanced across the table at Ravus who was pointedly eating his breakfast and pretending he wasn’t listening in.

“Yeah. Unfortunately, we can’t get ahold of anything _that_ old. I know there used to be some writings from Solheim at the museum in the Crown City, but that’s out of the question, now.”

Ignis was silent.

“Don’t even think about it.”

He let out a gust of air. “I understand.”

“We do have _some_ references, though, courtesy of Sania. She’s got access to a few more recently translated texts from the university. It’s a start. We can see where that gets us. But… you're comin’ back, right, Iggy?”

“Yes, of course!”

“Cool. Good,” Gladio seemed to seesaw over what to say next. “Might be best for you to actually be here in person with that book anyways, yeah? Instead of sending a bunch of snapshots back and forth.” 

“No, you're right. I’ll contact Aranea. Be there soon.”

Ravus rose from the table to wash his plate. “You’re leaving?”

Ignis tried not to focus on the slight note of disappointment there, the taut line of his shoulders.

He went to the sink as well and leaned against the counter. “I’ll still be making a quick pit-stop to speak with First Secretary Claustra regarding the recovery efforts, as discussed. It’ll be a bit earlier than originally planned, but you’re still welcome to join me for the meeting before I depart for Lucis.” He handed Ravus his fork to wash. “You’re welcome in Lucis as well, should you fancy a visit.”

“I will join you for the meeting with First Secretary Claustra, and then remain in Accordo for a while to do another round of assessment.”

Ravus didn’t say it, but Ignis felt it in the air between them: they both knew he wouldn’t be ‘welcome’ in Lucis by anyone other than Ignis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo, yeah. If anyone else was feeling a bit conflicted over the non-answer we were given for Noctis's apparent survival after Verse 2, this fic provides something a little different based off the plot I've weaved.


	5. Birthright

The sea air swaddled them in its humid blanket, and as it so often did, curiously brought them down, made them heavier, not only in their limbs, but in the heart.

It brought them a feeling of unfinished business, perhaps.

Ravus gripped his shoulder in a way characterized by people who did not often interact physically with others. “May fortune favor us both. Be safe, Ignis.”

Ravus cast his gaze over him like a net, and Ignis felt himself fall into the tangle of its weight. If only for a moment. It was as if neither were ready to be without the other’s hand acting as a brace to hold them up. To be without the familiarity they’d fed. As if like clay figures, they would crumble forward into each other without the support.  

For the other’s words were now etched deep within, transmuting, reshaping; along the bend of their ribs, the ridge of their spines.

“Be safe,” he nodded.

And the sea stretched between them.

 _“So,”_ Aranea began as soon as the door to her ship closed, “how are things with the boyfriend?”

“We are not-”

“He used your first name.”

 _“Most_ people use my first name, _Aranea,_ ” Ignis sighed.

“A solid argument, if either of you were ‘ _most people_.’”

_Should he jump ship now, or later?_

No, revenge was sweeter. “And how about you, Miss Highwind? Has anyone caught _your_ eye?”

“How about you shut your face.” She turned toward her controls, but a secret smile broke across her face.

_Oh-o! He’d have to keep that in his pocket and pester her about it some other time._

 

<<>>

 

Sania greeted him by grabbing both his hands and shaking them enthusiastically. “So, where’s this book?”

“Oh, blast it all! I knew I was forgetting something!”

Her face plummeted ten thousand feet and shattered on the pavement.

Ignis threw his head back as a laugh burst forth. “It’s in my bag.”

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Gladio announced and clapped him on the back fondly.  

“The tactician has landed!” Prompto brought him in for a one-armed hug, and Ignis feigned annoyance at the attention.

In truth, he was glad for it, even despite the heat.

He dug through his bag for the book, Sania bouncing foot-to-foot as she waited eagerly.

“Excellent!” She snatched the first journal of many, and led them through the labyrinthine city to the Leville.

Did Ignis mention he hated Lestallum?

He intended on spending as little time as possible in the place. It was too hot for his tastes to begin with, and now, everything reminded him of Noctis.

That sign with the jolly-looking vegetables?

Noctis.

The view of the crater?

Noctis.

That table, there, at Surgate’s Beanmine?

You guessed it.

Ignis distinctly felt like he was made of angry wasps, vibrating and ready to fly away at any moment.

Sania laid out her tidy notes on the coffee table in her room, and they got to work. There was quite a bit of educated guessing to be done, but they did come up with some interesting leads. It seemed the mine was being excavated when the mysterious statue was uncovered, but no mention of the prism was explicitly made. The miners had complained of an ear-splitting noise that made their task unbearable, and the project was thus abandoned. Word got out, and that’s when the cultists decided to investigate.

There was a bit that was repeated again and again about a ‘ritual,’ and yet more ‘failures,’ as well as what might have been a ‘shortening of cosmic paths,’ but devastatingly _massive_ chunks of the text were completely untranslatable…

Ignis flung himself into bed that night fully clothed and ground his face into the pillows to muffle a frustrated groan.

His phone vibrated to remind him of an unread message, and he tapped the screen to life. It was a text from Ravus - a photo message.

And he didn’t even think Ravus knew how to _do_ that.

The photo loaded, and at first, his tired eyes couldn’t comprehend the shapes before him, but they soon came together as the black and white pattern on the back of Ravus’s coat. A little lightning bug flashed its _hello_ as Ravus took its closeup in a small, circular mirror hanging on a tiled wall.

 ** _[Ravus]_** _: He must have landed on me and I didn’t notice until I returned inside._

Warmth unfurled in his chest, and he rolled off the bed to open the balcony doors. The chill night breeze filled his lungs, and he leaned back against the glass to cool his heated skin.

Ignis opened his phone’s camera and snapped a panorama of the starry sky. The moon was full, too. He thought Prompto would even be proud of his shot, and sent it off to Ravus.

 ** _[Ignis]_** _: Almost forgot about my ‘me time.’_

 

<<>>

 

The sun beat down on him and rode piggyback on his shoulders as he sat with Aranea outside the Leville. She held a glass of lemonade to her forehead, bangs askew.

“I hate the heat,” she whined.

“We should start a club.”

“I’m a Nif. We’re not made for this. My legs are already fused to the seat.” She lifted up a thigh and he heard it separate from the plastic loudly. “This is it. I’m ready to be whisked away to Shiva’s ice castle and be hand-fed candied berries for eternity.”

“Maybe you should consider wearing lighter colors, or fewer layers,” a new voice came from their side, and a Glaive strolled by aiming a very telling wink pointedly at the Dragoon.

Aranea stuck out her tongue. “It’s called _fashion_ , babe.”

Ignis slid his eyes over to Aranea and gave her a smug little grin. “So, I see.”

She matched his expression, but then it softened as the Glaive went on her way. “Yeah. I worry about her, y’know? It’s dangerous out there.”

Ignis nodded. Sweat made the bridge of his sunglasses slide down his nose.

Aranea sipped her lemonade and attempted at levity. “But she’s got the butt of a woman who knows what she’s doing. I trust her.”

He sputtered a laugh. “I haven’t a single clue what that means.”

The radio fizzled as it switched between a song about a man who loved his car a little too much, and back to the announcer. “Now, on this hot, hot, day we have some news on a topic that’s _heated up_ the masses for a while now.”

He and Aranea shared a look.

“We got ahold of a brand-spanking-new interview with the one and only Ravus Nox Fleuret. So, leeeeean in, listeners.”

Aranea scooched closer to the little radio, and so did Ignis.

“I bequeath the Nox Fleuret fortune to those families who I have wronged gravely and irrevocably. I give my life to you as well - I will fully become a servant of the people, and continue to devote my time and efforts to those in need of aid long after Accordo and Insomnia are rebuilt…”

The anchor interrupted the recording and chuckled darkly. “Does House Fleuret even _have_ that much dough? I mean, seems like there isn’t a single person on this planet the guy _hasn’t_ betrayed at some point.”

And then the anchor unpaused the recording, First Secretary Claustra’s firm voice buzzing through the speakers, “Take any of these men in power and strip them of their rank. What remains is most telling. You will either see nothing more than a child throwing a tantrum, or someone who strives to destroy the notion that one needs the artificial god of _authority_ to push for change, and does so with passion. I have yet to see which man stands before me with any certainty. I shall keep a watchful eye over all proceedings. And I pray that this partnership will help us cement a future where all may thrive, while never forgetting the events that led us to this point. For in the face of this threat, we must _all_ become united. Our star is tearing itself apart; we must each be there to fix it for future generations.” A monument in remembrance of the lives lost was also proposed.

“All I’m sayin’ is the good Lady Secretary better watch herself,” the radio host crowed. “That dude will do anything to get on anyone’s good side, ‘til he don’t need ‘em anymore, that is. Probably how he rose so high up so quickly with those Nifs. I’m just wondering how much of that rising was done on his ba-”

Aranea turned off the radio and settled back in her chair. “What a time to be alive.”

What a time, indeed…

Now that Ignis thought about it, Fenestala Manor _was_ completely empty those last few days he was there. No servants or repair crew running around. It was just them. This was something Ravus had been considering for some time, and must have only just solidified when Ignis left him in Accordo.

Ignis checked his watch. Ravus would be waking up soon, and he had questions.

Until then, he met with Sania to go over the translation once again.

Hours passed hunched at that table, but in the end, they came back with little more than they had their last few attempts.

Even Sania began to wilt under the seemingly impossible task.

He thanked her for her time, and retreated to his room feeling hopelessness begin to expand and pulsate behind his eyes anew.

With the door to his room closed firmly behind him, he allowed himself to succumb to the bare-fisted gluttony of his despondency in all its extremity, if just for a short time. He ground his fists into his eyes and felt them fill with tears, tipped his head back against the door to keep them in his face, but they came, and came, and came. His chest heaved softly with it, and he hugged his knees close. 

He knew Ravus was right. But _Gods_ , _did he hurt in every way possible_ …

The Prophecy foretold Noctis’s fate long ago, and Ignis saw what was to come with his own eyes when Pryna showed him the future. Noctis would die to save them all, and he would die in _agony_ , body on fire from the inside out as the spectral blades of his ancestors cleaved him apart. Ignis's dearest friend, born and raised to be violently ripped from them at an early age, never allowed to become the king - _the man_ \- he was meant to be. And while Ignis and their friends had so many cherished moments together, he couldn’t help but think he’d only been raising him up to be slaughtered. A sacrificial lamb. Just like all of Noctis's family members who came before him, all who died young to _feed that blasted rock._

Their martyr - that’s what he was.

Did the world even care about Noctis? Did they know him? 

It wasn't fair. 

Ignis wasn’t even sure what would be left of himself when you took all that away.

_Who even was he?_

Too slow, too weak, too naive.

His chest hurt. He felt like he was suffocating - there was a void spinning right where his lungs should be. It dragged everything into its orbit and _pulverized it._

He needed to talk to someone - but he refused to let Prompto or Gladio see him like this, so full of holes from which all the things he’d kept locked inside would pour out for everyone to see. He needed to be strong for them. Because it was when _he_ broke that everyone would know just how bad it was. Aranea extended the offer, too, but he didn’t have that level of comfort around her to show such weakness.

Ravus. He’d call Ravus.

A voice to drown out his own was all he needed, and for all his sarcasm, he knew Ravus would _never_ begrudge him this, would never think him weak, because he knew he’d felt the same. He would understand.  

Quickly calculating the time difference in Altissia told him it was an acceptable time to call, so he did.

“Hello?”

“Would you terribly mind-” he began haltingly. “Can you just talk, please? About anything. It doesn’t matter what.” His hands were prickling.

“Talk?” Ravus floundered briefly. “I - a child quacked at me early this morning. Or, it was more like a honk. Whatever it was, he startled me, and I almost dropped a metal beam on my foot. I haven’t been wearing my armor to the construction sites because then reporters know it’s me from a mile away. You were right. I feel very exposed, and I don’t like it. I’m confident the children can smell my fear.” He took a breath. “I... thought of you this morning - how I told you of the game Lunafreya and I used to play. There was another we’d come up with when she was perhaps ten. When she had time to waste before her lessons began, she would pick a word, and we’d combine parts of it with as many different words and names as possible. She’d come to favor the word ‘dumpling.' For quite some time, I became ‘Dumpus,’ and she, ‘Dumpafreya.’ Ignis - are you alright?”

Ignis swallowed thickly. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“Is it safe to assume this is about the books?”

“Hah. Knew you were a clever one.”

“Have you… touched it since that day? The prism?”

Ignis scuffed his heel on the floor and glanced across to where his bag was tucked in the corner of the room. “No.”

A lull fell between them, and Ignis concentrated on the sounds from the other end: footsteps, machinery whirring in the distance, Ravus’s breath faintly against the phone’s speakers.  

“Ravus, what were you thinking? You’ll have nothing,” Ignis broke the silence.

Ravus sighed. “So, you heard. You would rather I, what, flog myself daily, instead? I will have just enough to sustain myself and live a modest life. I’ve not seen luxury for some time traveling with the Imperial Army, nor would I feel comfortable with it now, and so, I do not have a need for it. It’s as the saying goes: ‘a rich man can own dozens of luxurious homes, yet he can only sleep in a single room.’ I have nothing and no one. What purpose does a palace serve me?”

 _You have me,_ his brain protested unhelpfully.

“What about the rulership of Tenebrae?” Ignis undid his boots and shuffled to his bed.

Ravus made a derisive noise. “If you ask me, we are past the time of monarchs led by the hand to a seat of power solely because their blood demands it. Let there be a fair vote for who is more fitting of Tenebrae’s throne. We should follow the example of First Secretary Claustra.”

Ignis ran a hand through his hair and scrubbed at his scalp. “And what of you, Ravus?”

“What of me?”

Something spoiled in Ignis’s stomach. “Will you be happy?”

“There are a great many things we can convince ourselves of.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the one I’m willing to give.”

Ignis let his head thump to the back of his headboard and squeezed his eyes shut. “What of the line of the Oracle? How will you eventually raise an heir to continue the calling your family name demands?”

A chair screeched as it was pushed back harshly. “I will _not_. And it is as simple as that. Such a thing was never meant to be mine. When Noctis returns to destroy Ardyn for good, the Scourge will be no more, and the Oracle’s healing Light will cease to be of use in the generations to come. Perhaps it is high-time such things came to an end.”

“Ravus-”

“ _Ignis…_ Please. Drop it.”

A beat. Two. Ah. “As you wish,” he acquiesced.

“Will you... visit again?” Ravus asked at length.

The question warmed his chest. He smiled softly at the speckled ceiling. “I think I’d like that. But I must remain in Lucis for some time. We’ve much to do here as well.”

Ignis heard the distinct _clank_ of cutlery against a dish. “Oh, apologies - are you eating?”

“Yes, but it’s fine. It’s nothing as worthy of my full attention as any of your dishes.”

Ignis chuckled. “Still. I’ll let you have the rest of your meal in peace. Don’t be afraid to keep in touch.”

He disconnected the call and felt around in his bag for the prism. No jolt of electricity licked up his arm, nor did the lights spontaneously combust. The prism simply hummed in his palm the way it had since the very first day.

His eyes went to the scar on his hand. _Touched by the divine power of the Gods_ , the cultist had said.

What if he didn’t have to accept any of this? What if there was more to it? What if he was just looking in the wrong places for his answer?

Because if Ignis knew anything about prophecies, it was that they were often misunderstood.

The book lay open in front of him, symbols mocking him for his ineptitude.

But if there was a loophole, he would find it.

Ignis lifted the smooth lense of the prism to his eye and gazed through it.

He gasped as the page morphed and shapes once obscure became more than shapes - _it showed him the way_. Line by line, he dragged the prism over the page, and _understood_.

 _‘The song wishes its will to be known,’_ it read. _‘The Tide Mother brought us here so that we might find it, and hear it speak its wisdom. It gave this language - the language of the Gods - to we privileged few. There must be a reason why we were brought here. We must be her emissaries, her messengers. Chosen! And so, we must now show our worth.’_

A sharp pain rang through Ignis’s skull and he jerked away from the page. He moved the prism aside, blinking rapidly until the room came back into focus.

This was clearly not something he could do for prolonged periods of time.

He reached into a drawer and pulled out a blank notepad. He should write this all down - translate everything. Perhaps then, he and the others could put their heads together and untangle this mess.

He snapped a photo of his translation and sent it to Ravus.

 ** _[Ignis]_** _: [Image Attached]_

 ** _[Ignis]_** _: It seems the prism was the key the whole time. I placed it over the page and understood. I’m rewriting everything as I translate it, but it’s not a task that can be sustained for long periods. It gives me a horrible headache._

 ** _[Ravus]_** _: [Image Attached]_

 ** _[Ravus]_** _: Look at this dog. She bears such a strong resemblance to Pryna._

 ** _[Ravus]_** _: Although Pryna was clearly superior._

 ** _[Ravus]_** _: Oh. I did not see your message._

 ** _[Ravus]_** _: That paragraph is very unsettling. It makes me feel distinctly like when I'm not wearing my armor outside and strange children quack at me._

 ** _[Ravus]_** _: Heed caution. Don’t overdo it._

 ** _[Ignis]_** _: I will. No need to worry, Dumpus. And she does look quite like Pryna. Very refined._

 ** _[Dumpus]_** _: It seems there will always be a reason for me to worry when it comes to you._

 ** _[Dumpus]_** _: I think I’ve come to regret telling you that story._

 ** _[Dumpus]_** _: Her name is Chances._

 

<<>>

 

Ignis was hesitant to give Sania the prism at first, even if it was to help speed up the process of translating. He was worried what might happen once she touched it - would it hurt her? Would the room explode?

But he needed to split up the work with someone, and as always, she was eager to lend a hand and learn as much as she could.

With matching headaches, they discovered the ritual the cultists were performing to honor the Tide Mother was what caused the dark energy to corrupt the mine. Or, more specifically, that was the consequence of a _failed_ ritual. As far as they could tell, there had been no successes… as further evidenced by what he and Ravus saw for themselves in the pit.

It was through this ritual that they hoped to reach ‘the place where death was held back,’ and ‘gain the favor of the Gods.’ With each sentence translated, they inched closer to the truth, but the cryptic language seemed to create a knot within a knot. A code within a code.

He snapped photos of each page as they translated them, not only as a backup should anything happen to their notes, but also as a means to keep Ravus up-to-date.

And truthfully, he enjoyed their conversations, regardless of the topic; he enjoyed them even when there weren’t many words exchanged at all.

They’d taken to sending photos back and forth with increased frequency.

Ravus would send him photos of building progress, seemingly every dog he came across, and breathtaking shots of the sea. Ignis sent his own back in response: a pastry he’d come up with on the fly, the lights in Lestallum at night, a cloud shaped like a Cactuar. He had one saved of Gladio giving two thumbs up and laughing as Prompto framed the gaping hole in the seat of his pants, but it didn’t feel quite right to send photos of other people; this was _their_ thing.

It calmed him when he felt fear creeping up on him, kept him from sinking into despondency when things looked bleak.

He tried to spend as much time with his friends as possible - it helped keep him positive when he saw them, and had their usual banter.

But it was with increasing frequency that they were being pulled apart. Sometimes one of them simply wished to be alone; to go their own way for a time, and they each respected that need. Or they were called upon to accompany others who required a more experienced individual at their side. It wasn’t that they grew apart, but that the world was dragging them in too many different directions that demanded their expertise.

They always reunited after they returned.

But sometimes… sometimes it hurt him.

On rare occasions, when he’d become trapped in a lightless place, it was too difficult to be in the other’s presence without Noctis - without remembering he was missing from their group, without remembering his fate. Or someone would bring him up, and all humor would deflate.

As if he were _already_   _dead_.

_And he hated it._

Weeks passed, three more, and Noctis did not return.

He worked on the translation with Sania. There were quite a few more books to go.

A month, two, four passed.

Noctis did not return.

Another month passed.

He called Ravus.

“You’re upset,” Ravus would state more than ask.

“Very astute of you,” Ignis would answer.

And they would simply listen to each other as they went about their tasks.

Ignis would listen to the water run and glasses clink as Ravus washed his dishes, listened as he read a book of poetry aloud at night.

Ravus would listen to him make his bed, brush his teeth, plan out his day.

They were mundane things that they had no reason to listen to, but it comforted them both immensely to hear it.

It made them feel like they still existed.

The gentle caress of fabric whispering against each other as one of them sifted through their clothing for the day made them feel like they were not alone, not forgotten among the multitude of other people who were just as afraid as they were. It became their pattern. A text to ask if they were alone, a simple yes or no answer, and the other would call just to hear them do nothing.

_If a tree fell in a forest, and no one was around to hear it, did Ignis still exist?_

Sometimes they spoke, but other times it was too much. They were too tired, too anxious, too sad. It didn’t need to be said.

When they did speak, it was in whispers, as if they were in a sacred space.

Sometimes Ravus told Ignis he missed Luna. Far fewer were the times Ravus told Ignis he missed _him,_ always just as exhaustion dragged him down into its depths. And Ignis knew he didn’t mean for him to hear it.

Ignis never told him he missed anyone. He called Ravus because he was missing, himself.

A year passed.

Ignis went on hunts, fished, mined for meteorshards, for fossils. The wiry muscles on his arms and legs were firmer in a way they’d never been before. his shoulders were broader, too.

Fishing helped him feel closer to Noctis, to engage in an activity that bought his King such joy. But Ignis soon began to enjoy it for its own merit. It allowed his mind a sense of harmony, a moment of reprieve in a time of great chaos. Sometimes he… not _prayed_ to Noctis - that was what you did for the dead, and Gods, and things like that - but he… _thought at him_. Like talking to a plant to help it grow. 

He told Noctis what they were all working on - about the meteorshards and the deliveries, and about the Glaives and hunters working together. He told him about Ravus; about how he found peace in storms, and Ignis suspected it was because Ravus was one. A human storm, emotions loud and full of feeling. He told Noctis about the kinds of dishes he’d come up with, and the amusing antics their friends had gotten up to. 

And they’d never had so much activity.

Nor seen so many daemons.

Each morning, the days got ever so slightly shorter, darker. And they all marched ever closer to the inevitability of an eternal night.

Noctis did not return.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did mention graphic depictions of violence in the tags, right? Right.
> 
> Also, I really dig writing Ardyn's scenes with "Just Like Sleep" by Passarella Death Squad and "Me And The Devil" by Soap&Skin in mind.

Eyes, watching.

Seeing.

Finding. 

Ravus remembered this moment.

It was when he first-

Footsteps echoed through the chamber, and a presence cast a long shadow over his shoulder.

“You would try to change your circumstances without rank? I can give it to you,” Ardyn began amicably. “I can give you everything you need, my boy. I did remove the Brigadier General from the premises as promised, did I not?”

He circled Ravus, hands folded neatly behind his back. “So immersed in her duties as she is, how can one expect her to do anything other than _drown?”_

He stopped, face coming into view, a slimy smile plastered across his features that did nothing to hide the malice in his eyes. “What do you say? Feel free to decline. But know that if you do...” Ardyn withdrew, shrugged, and the simple movement looked like a threat. There were daggers in that smirk, all sharp and ready to rend flesh.

The Ardyn in his dream fragmented into a cloud of black bugs and dispersed into the air.

And then darkness enveloped him.

This was new.

“What more do you want from me?” he growled into the shadows, eyes unable to keep track of the hissing swarm.

Thick, inky black slinked toward him, grabbed at him with five hundred hands, chilled him down to the bone.

“Can’t I pay a visit to an old friend?” Ardyn’s voice came from nowhere and everywhere all at once, bounced off invisible walls, echoed inside his skull.

He couldn’t wrench his arms from the shadow’s grip, and it was made of both searing heat and chilling rime. _“You will find none here,"_   Ravus snarled.

“Goodness, the disrespect of  _some people!"_

He screamed and writhed, heart a hammer as his flesh bubbled, bones snapped, splintering inside his skin, and somewhere past that, everything smelled of ozone and dirt as his shattered body finally slumped from their grip.

 _"You took her from me!”_  he cried out, bloodied lips painting the roiling ground as he clawed and dragged his way through the wisps.

The pungent and shadowy form swarmed around him in the amorphous space and melted through him, found its way into his mouth like meaty fingers when he gulped in air that never made it to his lungs. "Don’t forget who made you everything you are, dear Ravus.”

_Get him out! Get him out!_

"You would be rid of me? Impossible. You entered into my shadow long ago, dear boy, and now _I am_ _yours..._ But I never needed _you, per se,_ just your _face_. Did you really think any of your choices mattered?” Ardyn laughed, “I could have replaced you with a pretty footstool and the tale would have remained the same! Far more obedient, and no one would have been the wiser.” Ardyn tutted at him. The cloud slithered down his throat, searching - searching for what, he couldn’t tell.

“Ah, _there_ we are.”

_“No!”_

_He saw! He saw!_

He could sob, probably already was. He felt like he was falling, falling, falling, into the snapping jaws of some monstrous beast at the end of the spiraling dark, its maw yawning wide enough to swallow the planet whole. He knew, and now he would take _him_ away, too!

“Some things never change, do they?” Ardyn’s shadowy form sighed from everywhere around him. “How does it feel to know you are just as deluded and worthless as ever?”

_“Shut up!”_

“Aww. You believe he actually _likes_ you?”

“He does!” Ravus protested.

“You will rot and die alone. I’ll make sure of it. Either way, you must know you’re nothing more than a stand-in for his precious Noctis. You’ll never be what he truly wants; he’ll pretend you’re Noctis while he touches you."

“That's not true! Ignis is a good and righteous man - he would never treat others so carelessly,” he said, but felt Ardyn’s words like a physical blow. “Say what you will about me, but do not _dare_ slander his name in my presence. You will _beg_ for death by his hand.”

“A good man, indeed. So, he is clearly only humoring you out of the kindness of his heart.” Ardyn manifested in front of him in a cloud of miasma. “Tsk-tsk! You know you’re only troubling the poor lad with your affections.”

“Hah! Who do you think I am, _you-_ ”

The back of Ardyn’s hand connected with his cheek and he jerked awake, hair plastered to his face and sheets soaked through with sweat.

Ravus glanced at the clock perched on the pile of books that served as his nightstand. It was far earlier than he needed to be awake, but he knew better than to try falling back to sleep again.

He went to the shower, waited for the rhythmic patter of the water on his skin to calm him, but the calm did not come. He scrubbed his face, his hair, tried to think of something else, anything else…

Instead, the incessant sound only kept him rooted in the lingering buzz of insects under his skin. It held him firm in its oppressiveness.

Each time Ardyn appeared in his dreams, it seemed so real. Sometimes, he truly did think it _was_ Ardyn reaching into his soul from whatever plane of existence Ignis had banished him to; from wherever he was gathering energy for his return.

Ravus’s phone stared up at him from the bed.

He thought about calling Ignis for all of two seconds before shoving it away and continuing to ready himself for the day. Ardyn’s words sent chills up his spine.

 

<<>>

 

He should've known he could only hide for so long.

Ignis phoned him later on that evening. “You didn’t call this morning” was his greeting.

“I didn’t.”

“How come?” Ignis asked tentatively, and Ravus felt his heart clench around those words. He wanted to draw them into himself and hoard them, cradle them to his chest and replay his voice forever - so soft like that - and directed at him, of all people.

_Stop it._

His throat felt like he’d swallowed a cinder block. He didn’t know how to answer.

Ravus leaned heavily against a shovel and wiped his brow as he focused on the distant horizon instead. He knew it would not do to dwell on the way he felt. What it meant. He wasn’t even sure of the extent to which he _felt,_ just that it was a painful thing that lived in his chest and beat on his sternum like something alive trying to escape.

It was Ardyn’s words from his dream that brought it to the forefront of his mind. As well as the doubt. And now it would not leave.

Like some sort of _gremlin._

The Feelings Gremlin.

He’d tie bricks to its ridiculous little feet and toss it into the ocean if he could.

“How are you, Ravus?”

Ha.

He dropped into a crouch. “The world is too quiet. I feel like I need to scream. And even then, no one would hear me.”

“I believe that’s loneliness.”

 _Yes, well, it can go join the Feelings Gremlin in the ocean_.

He pressed his forehead into the wooden handle of his shovel.

Ignis was right. He was lonely. The road to death was a long one as it was, and it felt even longer and more sinister when you were all alone.

“I feel like it’s been so long since I last saw you in person. It’s over a year, now, no?” Ignis fussed over something on the other end. “We could do with a few more hands here in Lucis, if you can spare the time. A pair of behemoth kings have made Taeplar their target, and we’re all running low on energy with the endless stream of yet more hunts and other tasks coming in from left-and-right. We’d be deeply grateful for the help if you can make it.”

Feelings Gremlin told him it sounded like an excuse to go see him; said it almost sounded like Ignis wanted to see him, too. He told it to _go fuck itself_ and agreed to set up a ride to Cape Caem.

 

<<>>

 

Feelings Gremlin whacked him in the stomach with a wooden plank when he stepped onto the dock at Caem, and Ignis was there grinning at him with that full and brilliant smile of his.

“It’s good to see you again,” Ravus clasped Ignis’s shoulder, his own lips stretching wide as well. “You look well. I’m glad.”

Ignis’s scars hadn’t faded, but they were a less angry color. He did his hair differently, too.

“Alright, alright, break it up,” came Gladiolus’s unmistakable rumble. The Amicitia siblings and Prompto Argentum appeared around the tarp covering the inner portion of the dock, the younger Amicitia carrying Umbra in her arms.

“The Iggster didn’t cook a three-course meal just for it to get cold while you two to have a staring contest out here. C’mon!” They wore pleasant enough expressions, but Ravus was struck with the image of them lying in wait while smacking baseball bats against their palms in perfect unison.

Ignis cleared his throat. “Uh. Right…”

The hallway smelled heavenly, and the spread on the table looked even better.

Iris pumped her fists in the air. “It’s been _forever_ since we all got together for a real meal!” She pushed in her seat and smiled sweetly at all of them.

And a carrion bird tore at his innards. 

This was a terrible idea. He shouldn’t be here. Didn’t belong here. A trespasser. 

The discomfort grew, expanded upward into his chest, pushed on the top of his head, filled his mouth. 

“Bread?” Ignis offered him a plate, eyes so beauteously and achingly green as they searched his.

 _Right, you were asked here for a reason_ , he reminded himself. _You have a task_. 

“Yes, please,” he croaked, and was eventually able to uncoil his muscles enough to at least taste the food Ignis had taken the time and effort to prepare for them. 

Before him was a spread of croquettes, some sort of curry dish made with fresh crab, and even an orange chiffon cake. Ravus almost didn’t want to eat it for the beauty of it, but then he remembered he was starving, and wished it were possible to cram everything in his mouth at once. He noticed Ignis glance at him every so often to gauge his reaction, as if he could possibly disapprove of anything at this table besides himself.

“The food is excellent, Ignis. I can’t recall a meal I enjoyed more.”

“Does this mean you weren’t a fan of my Bismarck?”

“Your...You mean the pancake?”

 _“Pancake!”_ Ignis mock-scoffed, hand over his heart. “And here I thought your tastes were more refined than that!”

“Well, I do enjoy _your_ company, do I not?” It was meant to be a jab, but it came across…

Syrupy.  

Very syrupy.

To everyone.

Apparently.

A gentle expression passed over Ignis's face, and he gave Ravus's arm a squeeze before taking his own plate to the sink. Prompto coughed up his drink while Gladiolus pounded on his back, and Iris hid her mouth behind a napkin with the air of someone who would be coming into their betting money very soon.

“I did the cooking, you all can at least take care of your own dish,” Ignis announced. 

“Uh, yeah, sure. Hey, Iggy, couldwemaybehaveatalk?” Gladio blurted entirely as one word and joined him at the kitchen counter.

Iris smiled at him in a way that was very much like a ray of sunshine, but a _devious and knowing_ ray of sunshine, and offered to show him where he could put his things after their dishes were cleaned.

Ravus saw it for what it was, however. Gladiolus and Prompto wished to question Ignis, and Iris intended to learn of _his_ motives.

So be it.

Iris led him upstairs and showed him to a chest of drawers. “You can put your things in here.”  

“Thank you, Miss Amicitia,” he bowed his head and set his bag down next to the dresser.

 _"Pfft!_ Just ‘Iris’ is cool.”

Umbra padded over to inspect his duffel, and stretched his back in greeting. Ravus fought the urge to pick him up; a foolish notion that was dashed to pieces when the dog placed a paw on his leg. He likely remembered Ravus was one of Pryna’s owners.

“You miss your friend, I know. She was my good friend, too,” he murmured as he took the dog into his arms. “But if you poop on me, I will be very disappointed in you for at least the next ten minutes.” He stroked his head, and Umbra pushed his face into the crook of Ravus’s neck, nipping at his unruly hair. “Yes, yes. But I don’t fully trust you yet, you understand, and my coat is white.”

Iris chuckled at his coddling and plopped down onto one of the beds cross-legged. “I didn’t know you spoke dog,” she teased.

“It’s a useful skill. They are decidedly more pleasant company than humans.”

“Except maybe one human?”

“Except maybe one human.”

He decided he would cut to the chase. "You wish to know if he and I are involved." That was a dangerous notion to entertain aloud, let alone in the privacy of his own thoughts. “I do not know if my soul can afford such things. But I can tell you that there is no other whose companionship I cherish more.” 

She appeared to turn the words over in her mind and deemed them acceptable enough, nodding in understanding, and thankfully leaving it at that.

Umbra wriggled in his arms to signal he wanted  _down_.

“Your hair looks like a dog just chewed on it.”

“I can’t imagine why.” He ran his fingers through the little knots. It had gotten even longer in the past year, and longer, still, since he last risked allowing anyone so near his neck with a sharp implement of any kind. It was becoming rather unmanageable.  

“You should braid it!” She dug through a pocket and fished out a purple hair tie.

“Oh, thank yo-”

She smirked and slingshotted the elastic band at him. It landed square in the middle of his forehead, and he caught it as it fell.

“Initiation,” was her only explanation. He supposed he should have seen that coming.

“I like my hair short,” she went on as he took a seat and began untangling his hair. “So, it’s not long enough to braid, but sometimes I can get Gladdy to let me braid his hair! Y’know how it is. Long hair tends to make me look like baby.”

“And you wish to look more competent, capable.” He supposed he could see how that made sense.

“Exactly - so people will take me seriously!”

Ravus hummed. “You may have to lower your expectations. I’ve learned from experience, no one takes anyone as seriously as they should.”

She surveyed his work once he was done and gave it a thumbs up. "Not too shabby there, Ravioli."

He used to braid Lunafreya’s hair when they were younger; mother taught him how.

She paused by the door as she was about to take her leave, and in that moment, the look in her eyes was sharper than any blade. “I don’t hate you anymore, right? But that doesn’t mean I have to trust you as implicitly as Ignis does. Hurt him, and I promise, you’ll regret it,” she said coolly, and left the room.

He nodded at her back. Yes, if anything happened to Ignis, he would readily accept whatever slow and agonizing death they could come up with.

Ravus shed his coat, stowed it in the closet, and undid the clasps on his armor, including the outer shell of his magitek arm. He scooped Umbra up and held him close, nuzzling his face in his fur and letting the warm and comforting scent of _dog_ fill his senses.

_“Oh, most benevolent Shiva, great guardian of the glacier, I chant your name so that your guiding Light may command my soul, your tears of Compassion to fall upon the world."_

He cleared his throat and adjusted Umbra in his arms so he could see through the wide, circular window. “Come, let’s look outside.”

Waves rolled and crashed against the rocky shore, spraying mist into the air. Umbra licked the windowpane.

“I didn’t know you were a treacherous voyeur.”

Ignis huffed from where he was leaning against the doorway and strode over to him. “Yes, well, much has changed in the year we’ve been apart.” He winked. “I was admiring the braid. Your own handiwork, I presume?”

He fought the urge to say that it was the product of Umbra’s nimble fingers. “You presume correctly.”

“It’s quite a handsome look on you.”

Ravus sighed and adjusted the dog on his shoulder when Umbra attempted to lean on them both at once. “Remarks like that are why everyone thinks we’re an item.”

Ignis shook Umbra’s paw. “Remarks which you are equally guilty of contributing, if I’m not mistaken. But I’m personally not overly bothered by such assumptions.” Averted eyes flew in every direction but his. “Are you?”

“Not in the slightest," he responded truthfully. "There is no man I would be more honored for others to suspect was my partner."  

Those incredibly expressive eyes snapped up to meet his, shapely lips parting just slightly around a breath, and Ravus contemplated combat rolling out the window and doing a flying faceplant into the rocky cliff below. 

“That’s…” Ignis lowered his eyes again. “I’m touched, sincerely. Thank you.” Ignis smiled down at Umbra and ruffled his fur. “We’ll head out for the behemoth hunt tonight.” Ignis seemed to take a moment to gather enough courage to look at him again. “Sometimes they appear together, other times it’s only the one. Either way, I don’t anticipate they’ll go down easily, even with a small handful of Glaives accompanying us.”

“It’s fortunate, then, that neither of us have a reputation of going down easily either.” He set Umbra on the rug and attempted to wipe the fur from his black shirt. It was useless.

Ignis smirked and picked off a small clump for him. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” He studied Ravus once more - seemed to take him in more completely. “You could use this time to have a nap. I’m sure you’re tired, especially with the travel, and all.”

That sounded like an excellent idea, if only he could manage it. 


	7. Chapter 7

It looked like the carcass of some monstrous titan, its mangled ribcage casting shadows over the landscape and warping the darkened road.  

This was the first time he’d witnessed the great arches over Schier Heights.

How strange it was to be so near… There was something immensely powerful about them - a mighty reckoning, like leftover static electricity in the air after lightning struck.

Gladiolus stared out into the treeline placidly as they were bounced and jostled along the pebbled road, and the Argentum boy chatted away with the Glaive behind the wheel.

He briefly turned his attention to Ignis where he sat across from him in the bed of the truck, tapping away at his phone.

Not a moment had passed since that dream where he hadn’t analyzed and over-analyzed each of his interactions with Ignis _ad nauseam_. He couldn’t fathom what was going on in his mind.

Ravus rubbed his temples.

“We’re here,” the Glaive snapped him out of his thoughts.

The mouth of the forest was black, as if a physical line was drawn. On one half, the silver moon tinted the world a pale blue. On the other, he could almost imagine a door to another universe.

When he was fitted with his magitek prosthetic, his left eye was also given… _extra attributes_. It granted him better vision at night, but even his eyes could not penetrate the darkness. He glanced at Ignis once more, and his gaze was also fixed on the treeline like the jaws of a sahagin.

“Exercise extreme caution,” Ignis advised.

He and Ignis kept to the front of the group, their heightened senses giving them the advantage for tracking amidst the gloom. They followed the trail of thick branches snapped like mere twigs and the carcasses of other beasts unfortunate enough to cross the behemoth’s path.

“This is where we tracked them to the last time they attacked Taeplar. We lost them here,” a Glaive whispered.

A low growl rolled through the shadows and up their collective spines to lift every hair on their bodies. The tender limbs of trees splintered underfoot, and the wind whirred as the beast’s thick hide grazed leaves yet unseen.

_Snap._

_“There,”_ Ignis whispered sharply.

Calves burning, they scrambled up the hilly earth and around a jagged outcropping for cover.

The sounds seemed to diminish as they got further away, and then ceased altogether.

“I think he’s gone,” a Glaive whispered into the hush.

“Famous last words, bud.” Gladio peered around the rock, and a horrible, venomous hiss was flung into the air not at all from where they thought it should have.

The second behemoth had been stalking them the whole time.

The beast bounded for them from behind, shaking out his mane and gnashing his jaws.

“Crap.”

The Shield all but hoisted the Glaive under one arm and Prompto under the other, and rolled out of the way. Ravus lost sight of Ignis for a breath, but then a wall of flames erupted beneath the behemoth that told him he was alright.

That was when the second behemoth came back around, and Ravus understood why the two traveled together. They had a strategy: one lured them into the trees while the other stalked their prey, and then they stormed as one.

“We gotta separate ‘em!” Gladiolus roared as he sent a shockwave through the ground with his greatsword.

“Agreed!” Prompto’s machinery crystallized in his hands. He tinkered with the knobs while Gladiolus covered him, and then shouted _“Fire in the hole!”_ as a sphere of light and dark shot into the air. It pulled one of the behemoths toward its center of gravity, claws raking at the dirt as it was dragged backward and away from the other behemoth.

“Excellent work. Glaives, back us up. Prompto and Gladio will take him down while I make quick work of this fellow.” Ignis threw his hand out. “Ravus, to me!”

“With pleasure.”

He called lightning to his magitek arm, the white-hot sparks pouring forth in a violent stream. The behemoth fell briefly immobilized, and Ignis took his chance, slicing through tendons with his daggers.

The beast swiped out with deadly claws and beat its tail against the ground. Trees swayed and groaned with its force, and they nearly lost their footing.

“If I may-” Ravus charged his sword with electricity, and sent a flurry of bolts through the air like a whip.

“Quite a _shocking_ turn of events.”

“Ready to turn the tide?” Ravus held out his hands for him.

Ignis’s grin was a razor’s edge. “I thought you’d never ask!”

Ignis used his momentum to leap high into the air - perhaps, a little _too_ high, as Ravus often misjudged the strength behind his magitek arm - and the moon kissed his lance as he drove its forked tip through the behemoth’s rugged hide.

The creature roared deafeningly up to the sky, and slumped to the ground.

Ignis slid off its back, and Ravus steadied him as the others sprinted over, having felled their foe as well.

“Woohoo!” Prompto let his firearms evaporate into a shimmering mist and high-fived each of the Glaives. He then moved on to high-five Gladiolus and Ignis, hesitating for a moment before raising his hand tentatively to Ravus as well.

At any other point in his adult life, he would have turned on his heel and walked away without a word.

He surprised even himself by returning the gesture, and wondered if anyone could tell he’d never been high-fived before.

 

<<>>

 

Ravus waited for everyone else to shower before going downstairs to take his own. His mind was a cathedral full of hummingbirds with nowhere to go, and only in peace could he free them.

He knocked lightly on the door.

“Apologies, I’ll just be a moment longer,” Ignis answered, but opened the door for him.

“I used to do this frequently as a teen, but eventually fell out of habit.” Ignis spread a thin layer of moisturizer on his face. “You’ve likely noticed I have a few marks, here and here,” he prodded at a few shallow little dips in his skin. “I had some trouble with acne when I was younger. Now, I use it because of the scars from the Ring.” Ignis gently patted the balm into the dusky, pink burns.

Ravus’s eyes tracked Ignis’s hands as he smoothed them over the wicked edge of his fine jaw, the elegant line of his neck, high and dignified cheekbones, in between the dips of his long fingers where the Ring left a trail around his middle digit, and thought Ignis deserved everything that was good, and kind, and soft in this world. He should settle for nothing less after all he’d been through, and was still willing to do. 

“Ravus?”

He blinked Ignis back into focus and straightened. “My apologies.”

“My, I know the elderly tire easily, but I never anticipated you’d be _that_ exhausted. I was asking if you might help me with those journals tomorrow. I’ve reached a bit of an impasse.”

“Oh. Yes, of course.” And then it hit him. _“Excuse me - who is elderly?_ ”

Ignis smirked and brushed passed him. “Try not to fall asleep in the shower.”

_Astrals above…_

The others were already asleep by the time he went back upstairs. Only Ignis was still awake, sitting with his ankles crossed and flipping through a notepad on his bed.

“Took you long enough,” Ignis spoke lowly so as not to disturb the others.

“Yes, well, I’m not a sprightly young man like you anymore.”

Ignis set his pad on the nightstand and motioned to the bed. “You can share with me.”

_He most certainly can not._

“I hope you don’t mind too much. Iris has the only other free room while she’s visiting here. It didn’t dawn on me until now.”

Ravus glanced at the next bed and saw that while Prompto was sleeping right-side up, Gladiolus slept with his head at the footboard, clearly so as not to accidentally trespass on the other’s personal space. It was a far more reasonable - and significantly less intimate - arrangement than he originally feared.

He relaxed and placed his pillow at the footboard. He thought it would take some time before he could calm himself enough to fall asleep, as was customary, but he went out like a light.

 

<<>>

 

Ravus dreamed of the time he found those bruises on his sister’s arm.

As an adult, he watched on as his younger self sat next to Lunafreya. She was beading a bracelet, and he asked her how she got hurt.

She lied to him and told him she fell.

But he heard that filth, Caligo, had scolded her the evening before for ‘talking back’ in front of the others.

And Ravus knew then and there that he had to _get rid of him._

He’d sneaked a knife from his dinner into his pocket. He planned on stabbing him with it as soon as he got the chance, damn the consequences on his part. All he knew was that he needed to get him away from his little sister.

But that red daemon bastard must have seen him.

Ardyn accosted him in the hall, pushed him against a wall and dug his hands through his pockets.

“My, my,” he’d said, and spun the cutting knife like a baton twirler at a parade. “You might hurt yourself carrying around such _pointy_ things… Or hurt someone else.” Ardyn eyed him slyly. “If you wanted to do something like _that_ , well,” a smirk slithered across his face like a snake. _Like the snake he was._ “I suggest you leave such delicate matters in my capable hands. If you’ll lend me _yours_ from time to time, that is. Oh, hush! Nothing like _that_ , my boy.” He chuckled darkly. “Just a few strings here and there, if you will, and all will come together with time. _Hm?_ ”

Ardyn froze before this younger Ravus, and he slipped out of his reach, instead grabbing his present self by the sleeve and dragging him from the hallway. He did not speak a word as they were transported to the same spot, just at a different time.

Ravus touched the wall and waited for his hand to go through.

It did not, so he knew he was still alive.

‘Poor little Ravus,’ people had said back then, in the very beginning. ‘He wanders the halls like a ghost.’

But he was neither poor nor little.

Although he was a ghost. Sometimes he’d felt he was not there at all. Made of air. As if he could place a hand on some object, and it would slip right through.

He’d made a habit of testing it: touching things to make sure he was still there. To prove he hadn’t evaporated into nothingness. Table, chair, wall, desk, book. Everything had his fingerprints on it.

He saw himself proven worthless as a father figure he’d come to respect betrayed him as a boy - abandoned him as flames and magitek troopers surrounded him on all sides, injured and terrified as he protected his mother’s bloodied corpse.

He was not the Oracle.

He could not heal. Not that it would have mattered back then.

He saw himself in a room full of those touched by the divine power of the Gods; a room in which he’d seen himself a backup in the event Luna could not eventually provide a daughter to continue the duties of their line. But little did they know, he would not even be able to do that much for them. It was a man’s flesh for which he longed.

Sometimes he was an angry ghost, fueled by vengeance.

But vengeance burned, and it burned right through him.

He was an instrument of vengeance, operated by whomever’s hand sought fit to wield him. Sometimes it was his own. He couldn’t tell which was worse.

He was still just a boy then, too, but he thought himself a man.

He saw himself kneel before Ardyn.

He thought he could prove his worth to someone, anyone, and gain the power he needed to keep the only person left on the planet who he loved safe. But by then, he was no longer a person. Not even a ghost. But he would have rathered it.

Because at least ghosts couldn’t feel.

 

<<>>

 

He woke, and his heart beat a little faster.  

Not in a good way. More like in the ‘Send help, I have just woken up naked and covered in bees’ way. 

Because Ignis’s face was very close to his. Too close, and his eyes were too big, and green, and sleepy. Definitely not where he left him last night. He didn’t even register the hand resting lightly on the center of his chest until it slipped away.

“Ignis?”

“You were thrashing around quite a bit.”

Ravus let his head loll to the side. Judging by the dull glow filtering through the curtains, the sun hadn’t come up yet. “I woke you.”

“Bad dream?” Ignis deflected, and sagged down into the blankets next to him like a sack of rocks.

“Something like that.”

Ignis’s eyes drooped as he suppressed a yawn, and inched closer to him. His forehead came to rest against the side of Ravus’s shoulder, fingertips just against his side.

“What’s this?”

“For the nightmares,” Ignis whispered. “I’m right here with you.” And his dreamy tone told Ravus that he was already descending back to sleep.

He dared move his head to tuck Ignis’s below his chin, and let the smell of his clean hair fill his senses.

_Gods help him._

Ravus never planned on feeling this way. 

How was it possible that in a world so corrupt, and harsh, and violent, Ignis was everything that was right, and fair, and loving?

He sucked in a breath and squeezed his eyes shut tighter.

He wanted Ignis. He allowed himself to think it; allowed the words to fully enter his consciousness, and acknowledged their presence.

He desired Ignis’s happiness, his smiles. They didn’t even have to be directed at him. He treasured the way those little crinkles appeared in the corners of his eyes when he was thinking. And he was always thinking. He adored his curiosity, admired his strength, his selfless love and care for others. Ravus wanted to take care of him. To help him cook and study. To fight alongside him, and protect him until the end of his days.

He wanted to take his hand, to hold him close, to fill his mouth with kisses. 

And he hated himself for it. 

Because after everything he'd done, he knew it was wrong. 

Wrong for a man like him to desire a man like Ignis. 

And yet, he could not stop himself from wanting to be near him.

But they would all wake up with the dawn and go about their day, and no one else would ever have to know he’d felt this way.

 

<<>>

 

“Up and at ‘em, lover boy,” Gladiolus flapped the wrinkles out of his shirt.

Ravus cracked a gummy lid open, and Ignis slowly rolled out from under his chin.

“Prom’s helping Iris make breakfast. Should be done in ten.” The Shield eyed them both and then thumped downstairs as well.

Ravus joined Ignis at the dresser and waited while he looked through his clothes.

Ignis had filled out a bit in the year they were apart. Ignis had always been very thin, and still was, but his shoulders had rounded out, and his arms were firmer, as were his legs.

Ravus redirected his attention. “I thought the Shield would surely have decided I’d overstayed my visit this morning.”

Ignis glanced at him peripherally as he did up his shirt, his blush making it very clear he knew exactly what Ravus was alluding to.

“We’re all very protective of each other, yes… But Gladio is especially so with me due to our shared history.” Ignis’s hands stalled over the buttons as he reflected on some distant memory. “He was my first and only friend at the Citadel besides Noctis, but the difference was that I had no duty to him. Sure, we knew each other _because of_ Noctis, but we _chose_ to be friends.” He resumed looking through his drawers for a pair of suspenders. “Whenever I’d needed an ear, or some sound advice, I knew I could confide in him.” Ignis stopped and met his eyes. “There are things he knows about me that not another soul on this planet is privy to. Not even Noctis. He is only being cautious because he cares for my well-being… But he also knows better than to tell me who I should and should not allow into my life, just as I would extend the same courtesy toward him.”

Something like relief filled him. Ravus shoved it down.

“What I’m saying is,” Ignis took a breath, “I’m not a child, and they know that. Whomever I deem worthy of my time is my own business. I welcome their input in all things, but if I so wish to sleep with another man who they do not wholly approve of, _hypothetically_ speaking, that will not change their esteem for me as their friend, nor will it sway me unless given reason to desist otherwise.”

Ravus felt his eyebrows nearly fly off his face. “I… That is… good to know. And this has come to pass before?” he asked carefully.

Ignis folded his arms. “I have indulged from time to time, when my attention was not required elsewhere… But unfortunately-” He broke eye contact abruptly and clipped his suspenders to his waist. “It’s not of importance.”

_And he suddenly looked oh, so sad._

Ravus was struck with the overwhelming need to hug Ignis. His hands twitched at his sides, but he did not move a muscle.

“But I’m hogging up the drawers, aren't I?” Ignis put on a smile and stepped out of his way.

Ravus didn’t know what to do - how to fix it.

He wished he were a better person, one who knew how to comfort others. But he wasn’t. And he didn’t.

It was true - loving someone was dangerous. It was like holding out your metaphorical beating heart to a coeurl. It could either take it gently into its mouth like it does it’s cubs, or it would smash it between its jaws, leaving you dead inside for some time.

But where a heart was too heavy to carry uphill, one must roll it to move forward.

_Damn it all..._

“In life, there will be suffering,” Ravus tried, and tossed his shirt into the laundry basket. He yanked a clean one right-side-out, “but we were not born to suffer.”

He turned to face Ignis, and he saw him look at the countless scars that crisscrossed up and down his back and torso as he pulled his shirt on. Ravus thought them hideous, but each one served as a reminder of all the different paths he’d crossed, the mistakes, the betrayals. He’d made and met a lot of them, and knew Ignis was none of those. “Especially not you. There is not an inch of my being that does not wish for your complete and lasting happiness in life… Just as I suspect everyone else downstairs feels the same. I will not say that whoever hurt you is an _utter fool,_ because you clearly do not think it, or else you would not let it affect you so.” He suspected he knew who this person was, but if he was correct, he also knew he did not do this to Ignis purposely. “But I will say that whatever happens, wherever this path leads us, please, remember that we are all with you, and care for you dearly.”

Ignis stared at him for a long while. “That was awfully touching for a man who’s not wearing any pants.”

“I’ve heard men have many of their most touching moments while pantsless.”

Ignis’s laughter was always a shock - so loud and powerful for someone usually so outwardly reserved. It bubbled up from his chest in little bursts until he was doubled over with it, gasping between each new eruption and wiping his eyes. “You’re horrible!”

_But at least you’re happy._

Ignis’s broad grin had him smiling back as he finished dressing, and Ignis’s smile poured golden honey over his movements, slowing time as Ravus let its increasingly sticky weight crush him. Then, Ignis looked at him with fondness and brushed their hands together as they left the room, and he knew it was an intentional thing. Warmth bloomed and spread through his chest like a hearth slowly warmed a room, and tragically, he realized he was happy, too.

 


	8. Once Loved, The Serpent

Ravus made a loose grabby motion and Ignis handed over another journal.

“It’s no use. I’ve already looked through all of those…” Ignis leaned heavily on his elbows. “I’ve been thinking - what if we returned to the mine? There might be something we missed.”

“No, I’m sure we took all the writings. Just let me have a look.”

Ravus sifted through the journals thoroughly, translations side-by-side with the original text, but there was clearly something missing - some crucial bit of information was yet absent that could tie this whole business about the ritual together. But he was _sure_ there was nothing left in the mine.

This was important to Ignis. He had not a single clue as to what this strange gut feeling was that Ignis had, nor what this kinship was that he felt with the prism, but Ravus would not make like light of it. He trusted Ignis’s judgment.

And then he came to one journal that gave him pause.

The leather flap on the inside cover was warped slightly with age, but there was a faint yet clearly raised outline that distinguished it as different from the rest; as if something was once wedged beneath it.

He picked at it carefully with a fingernail until the topmost layer of leather began to peel away, the moist air in the mine having fused the pieces together. Ignis watched his hands intently as it came apart, and he found a folded page within. It was written in the same language.

“How did you know to peel back the flap?” Ignis’s brows formed an indignant little ‘v’ at not having seen it there before.

Ravus bit his lips to hide a smirk.

“I owned a journal like this as a boy.” He traced his thumb back and forth over the edge absently. “I enjoyed writing. Stories, poetry, whatever words thrashed in my chest and screamed to escape in that moment. Writing them down often allowed me to better understand what kind of person I was, and work through what I was feeling. But I always feared someone would read my writings, so I hid the pages that were… _more private_ in the back flap while I worked on them. And then I’d burn them in the fireplace when I was done. It was very cathartic. I was merely relieved to unleash my thoughts onto the page. I haven’t written in years now, however.”

“Would you ever consider writing again?” Ignis cautioned a glance and smoothed the fragile page as well as he could on the bed between them.

“I… should not waste my time on such frivolities.”

“Oh, hush. You’re the one who convinced me to make time for doing something I enjoy at the end of the day. This could be your thing. Here, tell me about one of your stories. I’m all ears.”

Ravus worried the leather. “There was one story that had been based on a dream. It was not too long after Luna was born, but I still recall it vividly. I’d written it all down once, long ago. Everything was lost in the fire.”

Ignis’s silent attentiveness urged him to go on.

“The story concerned a woman, a soldier. She was separated from the rest of her forces when a dangerous sandstorm suddenly hit, and she scrambled for shelter. She eventually came upon a cave that seemed no more than a cleft in the mountainside, but she soon saw it was much larger than that. She stayed as near the entrance as was prudent, but when she woke in the middle of the night, curiosity drew her deeper. An amber light pulsed from the corner of her eye, and she followed, thinking it another one of her soldiers who’d also found the cave, and perhaps that was what woke her. But she discovered only the immense statue of one of her people’s Gods deep within the cave; on its chest, an amber light. For centuries, her people believed the Gods to have abandoned them, as they heard no whispers, received no answers to their prayers. She spent the night before it, and through dream-ordained counsel, saw that this light was a shard of one of her Gods, and that she was trapped. The woman took the amber light into herself, safeguarded it, and went on a long journey to free the Goddess and discover what happened to these ancient beings to make them all disappear…” He looked up again to find Ignis listening with what appeared to be sincere interest. “But if I were to tell you any more, I would spoil the plot.”

Ignis chuckled and leaned back. “Fair enough. Is that the one you think you’ll start with then?”

Ravus shook his head. “Perhaps-” self-consciousness clamped a hand around his throat. “Perhaps I will write it all down again, someday. But that’s not the one I would like to focus on if I do ever decide to pick up a pen again.”

“Oh? And what would that one be?”

He wasn’t sure. It was all half-formed and too big. He hadn’t even really considered it until just then. “I’ll let you know when I do.”

“I’ll be waiting.” Ignis‘s smile was so lovely and soft. “In the meantime, how about we translate this, hm?” Ignis retrieved the prism from a small box for safekeeping and slid it across to him.

Their fingers met over the prism.

Ignis inhaled sharply through his nose and Ravus hissed through his teeth simultaneously as the unexpected vision filled them both like a tremendous and violent gust of wind.

A man with sandy hair and summer-green eyes who bore a vague resemblance to Ignis carried an elaborate shawl over one arm that dripped shimmering gemstones from its tasseled ends. He moved with a sinuous elegance that could only have been practiced, and demanded no less than everyone’s full and undivided attention.

 _“Good Gods - that man. I’ve seen him before!”_ Ignis’s thoughts echoed in Ravus’s own mind.

They were dragged through an elaborate pavilion haloed by some sort of artificially lit sphere, and then they came upon a sprawling palace of shining and polished gold. Ornate and curling filigree caressed the gentle curve of wide windows along a lengthy corridor. Domed ceilings were adorned with painstaking frescoes depicting a night scene, the crystalline chandeliers draped along the trimmings acting as twinkling stars. The artwork gradually brightened into day toward the end of the pristine hall, a cleverly decorated oculus acting as the bright morning sun at its end. It was a masterpiece.

Neither of them had ever witnessed such obscene wealth, _and that was saying something._

“Ah, you have deigned to grace me with your presence,” a voice that sent chills up their collective spines echoed through the open doorway to a room decorated in luxurious silks and rich, dark furniture.

They both recognized it as Ardyn’s.

When he came into view, he was a young man with hair like a fuschia sunset done in a loose braid, his eyes the color of the dawn as the sun crested over verdant hills. They were the same features, but somehow they looked so strikingly different.

Ravus could feel Ignis’s dread growing, and then it suddenly spiked. _“Oh, Gods. Dear, Gods. It was him. He was the other man.”_

_“Ignis, what are you talking about?”_

Ignis remained silent.

“I would have come sooner had that oaf not cheated during the tournament,” the first man replied loftily and settled into Ardyn’s side on the bed.

“Yes, my dear, I know.” Ardyn’s expression softened, and he leaned in to kiss the other’s temple. “Let me see it,” he motioned to the elaborate shawl.

The man hesitated for a moment before setting it aside to reveal a fresh-looking scar that stretched from his knuckles to his elbow.

Ardyn’s hand hovered over the wound, but did not touch it. “You know I am more equipped to heal disease, but I shall do my best for you.”

“I would expect nothing less,” the other smirked.

Motes of light kissed the man’s skin, and the gnarled wound began to even out until his arm was completely unmarred.

“There,” Ardyn smoothed a thumb along the underside of the man’s wrist, and brought his hand to his lips. “I wish to give you a gift.”

The man looked pleasantly surprised, but shook his head. “You give me so many fine and beautiful things, but my one true desire is that I may remain at your side for as long as we live. Your unyielding love shines brighter than any jewel and sings louder than any choir.”

Ardyn kissed his knuckles again. “This is different, although it is a gift that I fear is tinged with concern. I sense there will be difficult times ahead.”

The man’s expression hardened. “Bring them to me, each of these obstacles,” he said resolutely. “I shall take those things that trouble us and melt them down into a mold from which we will forge our rings. We have leaped countless hurdles before and we shall do it again.”

Ardyn chuckled lowly and stroked his lover’s cheek. “So be it. Who am I to question _you_ , after all? But I would bequeath to you my flames, my heart of hearts, just as your line won your own from the Infernian long ago.” Ardyn placed his hand like a brand over his lover’s chest, and the power seemed to be visibly siphoned through that hand into the man’s veins. “You already possess a talent for flame, let my own protect you as well, and you will never have to fear battle. None will step in your path.”  
  
The man breathed deeply and summoned a small wisp of fire to his palm. “I shall name these flames ‘Sagefire,’ after you, my dearest love, so that I may always remember whose power and whose heart I command. And wherever I go, I will know that you are with me.”

Ravus wanted to wrench his hand from the prism - he didn’t know what he was seeing or why, but he wanted it to stop. He tried to regain control of his body, but it was as if he was cut off from it. _“Ignis. How do we make it stop? How do we get back to ourselves?”_ And even he could hear how frantic his own disembodied voice sounded.

Ignis was silent, but Ravus could still feel him there. He could feel his dread.

A roar like a monsoon as it beat against a windowpane rattled his ears, and his vision whited out.

 _“Ignis?”_ he breathed into the nothing. 

Lightning flashed and split the sky in two. It illuminated a man neither of them recognized, and Ravus realized he was seeing him from where his cheek was mashed into the ground. Ears ringing, bones grinding, a heart stuttered wildly beneath skin that was not his own. 

“Oh, what good is a world that only ever lets you down? Why not end it all right here?”

 _No, no, it was all wrong. That was what Ardyn told Ignis while he had Noctis in his grasp. But that wasn’t Ardyn’s voice. Where was it coming from?_ He tried to rip his arms from whatever vice-grip held them crossed against his back, but he could not free them.

“After all he’s done - after the ruin he wrought with his devious lies and most foul corruption - why not come with me, and leave this worm to his hole?”

“He would never do such a thing!” Ardyn’s voice was flung from his throat, guttural with grief, and he felt himself struggle against the invisible hold again.

Green eyes met his, and then turned away. “He would.”

He felt Ardyn’s anguish like a flaming meteorite hurtling through his body and out of his mouth as he howled against the ice-cold slab of the grimy floor. “I chose you over a crown - I chose you, my love, my heart!”

Everything went dark again.

Ravus panted harshly as he was propelled backward, hand finally coming free of the prism.

Ignis covered his mouth with both hands as if he would be sick. “It was all true.” The words just scarcely carried on his barest breath, fragile, broken.

Wide green eyes full of fear fell on him. “It can’t be.”

“Ignis-”

“I am never touching that bloody rock again,” Ignis said shakily and surged from the bed.  

“Wait, where are you going?” Ravus clasped Ignis’s wrist.

Ignis looked down at him and actually appeared to see him then. He placed a trembling hand over Ravus’s, and gently coaxed his wrist free. “Please - I just need some time with my thoughts right now.”

Ignis fled the room, and he heard a chorus of startled voices from those downstairs. It sounded like Gladiolus followed him out, only to slam the door again mere seconds later as he returned without him.

Ravus’s brain reminded him that he trusted Ignis - that he would come back safe and sound. That he, too, needed to free his hummingbirds. And Ravus would not dare deny him that.

He fully and readily anticipated the angry footsteps that raced to the bedroom, and the concerned faces of Gladiolus, Prompto, and Iris at the door.

 _“What the hell did you do to him,”_ Gladio accused rather than asked. Lowly, dangerously.

“The fault lay with naught but this prism,” Ravus stated and folded the relic inside a handkerchief. “A vision invaded our minds when we touched it which was unsettling enough, but Ignis seemed far more disturbed by it for reasons beyond my comprehension. He wished to sort through it in peace.”

Gladiolus deflated, muscles visibly unclenching as he unfolded his arms to rub at his face. “‘M’sorry. For jumping on you… What…” His eyes landed on the lump of the prism where it lay unassumingly on the sheets. “What did you see?” he cautioned.

Ravus shook his head. “Remnants of the past. A scene from ancient Solheim. I do not wish to divulge any more than that, in case it is a tale that Ignis alone should be the one to tell.”

Gladiolus looked pensively at the mess. “I got no clue what all this is about. But he seems fixed on it. I don’t know…” He sighed through his nose. “But thanks, y’know, for helping him with it. Once he sets himself on a task, he doesn’t know how to stop sometimes. He doesn’t know how to do anything without putting his whole self into it… Makes me worry one day he’ll use himself up completely.”

 _Yes_ , Ravus thought, _I do understand._ He’d always thought the same of Luna. And he was suddenly immensely grateful for Gladiolus.

Ignis did, indeed, live up to his name. He was fiery passion. He was the desire for knowledge, a beacon in the night. But he burned so bright, he would burn himself to ashes to light the way for others.

“While he was staying with me in Tenebrae, I watched him force down cup after cup of tea, and I can only assume it was because he did not wish to inconvenience me. He would have continued to drink it had I not noticed and set up a coffeemaker for him.” He shook his head. Here was a man worthy of kings; a man who balanced the weight of the world on the tip of his sun-kissed blade, and he still hesitated before asking for such simple things. And he hated asking for help most of all. “Assisting him with this is the absolute least I can do. But I assure you, I shall do everything in my power to ensure his flame never goes out. Just as I know I can expect nothing less from you three.”

Some hard edge within Gladiolus softened, and he fixed his gaze on the floor. “Yeah, well.” He grabbed the back of his neck stiffly. “Thanks. I mean it.”

Ravus continued the translation, although it was not easy to do so while the vortex of his thoughts kept dragging him back to Ignis.

He moved to the window, drawn to the spot like a fish on a line. Ignis was seated on a low, flat rock, watching the spacious sea as it roiled and communicated its implicit understanding that they have both swallowed shipwrecks.

Ravus leaned his head against the cool glass, and Ignis turned his face upwards, eyes closed, as a large wave brought a fine mist of seaspray down on him.

Ignis did not return for the remainder of the day.

Ravus used the time to complete the translation in full. Thankfully, without the interruption of any further visions.

It became apparent that they had, indeed, found the missing piece.

The circle was completed, and it created an eye through which he saw his fate laid bare before him.

And unease laid itself thickly upon him.

His throat stuck, mouth welling up with nausea, and he shoved the books away in favor of intermittently vomiting in the toilet for the next half-hour. 

He lifted his head at the sound of a shy knock.

“Hey, uh, Ravus? You okay, dude?” Prompto asked sheepishly through the door.  

Ravus managed a grunt, legs trembling as he unstuck himself from the floor. “No. But thank you.” He leaned heavily on the sink to splash cold water on his face. It wasn’t nearly cold enough.  
  
He brushed his teeth.  
  
This was it.  
  
Risk, price, cost, consequence. All things in life demanded an exchange; to exist was to survive risks.

He would do it. Never did he have the luxury of being afraid of the dark, and he would not let it intimidate him now. If Ardyn was right about anything, it was that he had, indeed, left his mark on Ravus. It was Ardyn who taught him what it was to avert his gaze from the light, and in doing so, made darkness his frontier.

Ravus caught his reflection in the mirror, and it was a shock to the system. He thought he didn’t look like himself. That was a stranger, that man. It was not in his braided hair, nor was it in his scarred jaw from when a metal beam had come down on him like a guillotine. It was his eyes that looked strangely not like his own. They were still shadowed as ever with dark circles, but something else had made its home within that had no name.  
  
No, no - it did not have one name, but thousands, millions.  
  
Ravus turned off the tap and undressed for the shower. He would do whatever it said, for he saw, now, what Ignis heard calling out to him all along. It was the only way, and it had to be him.

And Ravus was, indeed, a writer at heart - he knew how stories like his ended, and there would be no fairytale resolution. He’d long-since burned those pages. No, his story had an end, and it hungered for as much pain as possible before the final word was laid on the page.

_So be it!_

_But it would be his word, Gods damn it!_

The world could have his screams, it could have his bloodied fists and violent colors. The doors to his cell were open now, and he would take those bars in his hands and watch them crumble in his palms. If this was the solution, he would stand up and face it with his teeth bared and his soul wide open.

And if things did go awry…

It would be a fitting end.

 

<<>>

 

It was dark by the time Ignis returned from the sea, and Ravus had already gone to bed, head resting at the footboard, although he was not sleeping. He couldn’t until Ignis came back inside, of course. So his ears were attuned to the sound of him quietly closing the door downstairs. He listened to the soft sounds he’d come to know as Ignis shucked off his boots, and socked feet padded up the stairs. It reminded him of all those phone calls where they would do just that. Listen. It allowed them to understand each other without a word, so he knew that what Ignis was feeling had to be an empty sort of melancholy. It was in the way he moved, like he needed to make an extra effort to make his body _go_. Ravus shifted onto his side and watched his thin shadow drift to the bed, neatly laying his slacks and button-down in the hamper to be washed.

No pretense was put forth as Ignis slid under the covers without even moving his pillow. His forehead came to rest against Ravus’s chest, and he smelled strongly of the salty sea air. Whatever was going on in Ignis’s mind, Ravus supposed it was a different type of nightmare. He enfolded Ignis in his arms as best he could and stroked a thumb between his shoulder blades over the thin cotton of his undershirt.

“A while ago…” Ignis whispered into Ravus’s shirt, "before we even found the prism, I had a vision. I saw that man and Ardyn, although I didn’t know it was him at the time. They were having an argument. The man was badly affected by the Scourge. And then I saw you.” Ignis shuddered, and Ravus felt the quiver travel throughout his entire body. “You were  _grotesquely daemonified_. You asked me to kill you. Seeing what we have, as solidified by the prism as well, I believe these things all to be truth.”

Ravus found himself pulling Ignis closer, and Ignis snaked his hands around Ravus to drag nimble fingers along the divots of his spine.

Now was clearly not the time to tell him what he’d discovered. They were not words to be spoken in the dark.

But this revelation would make the telling all the more difficult in the morning, however.

He pressed his cheek to Ignis’s hair, their breath falling in sync as they let sleep take them under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, put the tinfoil away. But like this is me, tho? I live for this stuff?  
> Translation: In case you somehow missed it, Ep Ardyn’s working title was announced as “The Conflict of the Sage,” and thus, we have the Sage giving the Scientia line Sagefire. Ya heard it here first, folks. *shimmies into the night*


	9. Chapter 9

Ignis was no longer beside him when he woke, and a spike of worry shot through his chest. He reached a hand out, and although the blankets were not cold, they were just warm enough that Ignis could not have been gone for long. He rolled out of the bed without sound and shimmied into a clean pair of pants. There was still a distinctly Gladiolus-and-Prompto shaped lump in the next bed.

The stairs groaned underfoot, and Ignis’s subdued _“‘Morning”_   wafted up from the kitchen.

Ignis was at the counter peeling potatoes.

At - he glanced at the clock - four in the morning.

“Have I stumbled upon some sort of special… Ignis thing?” He leaned against the counter and folded his arms.

Ignis looked at the clock as well. “It is a bit early, isn’t it?” He heaved a sigh and plunked another potato into a bowl of cold water. “Would you believe I’ve never made potato pancakes before? Such a simple thing, and I,” he let the sentence trail off into oblivion.

He had to tell him about the ritual. It would be like ripping off a bandage. Do it quickly and be done with it.

But first, he would dull this pain.  

Ravus dipped his fingertips into the cold water and flicked them at Ignis.

Ignis put his knife down askance. “Did you just flick my own potato water at me?” And the barest hint of a sharp incisor told him it was working.

So, he did it again.

_Flick._

_“Ravus!”_ Ignis dunked his fingers into the bowl and flicked a much more generous amount of water at him.

Ravus grinned and twisted out of reach. “ _Tsk_ , Ignis, you’re making a mess,” he poked.

_Flick._

“You started this!”

_Flick._

“So come and end it,” he challenged, well and truly feeling like he was all of five years old. But it was entirely worth it; Ignis's joy was like a caged dove liberated at last - bright, beautiful, transcendent. He hastily dipped a hand back inside the bowl and flicked it at him again.

 _“You-!”_ Ignis sprinted around the counter as Ravus bounded toward the door.

Ignis lashed out with his hand and Ravus felt the water spatter against his back as he threw the door open and ran outside. He heard Ignis’s laughter ring out and echo against vast sphere of the sky and swaying trees.

Ravus spun on his heel to face Ignis - to lay eyes upon that smile - but Ignis clearly wasn’t counting on his abrupt halt.

 _“Oof!”_ They collided, and the ground rose up to meet them mercilessly, but he didn’t mind the scrapes and bumps. Because Ignis's grin was fresher than the early dawn's air, and his weight was solid on top of him, and he made no move to get off.

Ravus’s heart propelled itself into his throat. _He was so lovely._

He let his hand roam up Ignis’s arm where it pinned him down, and his chest seized when something like want flashed in Ignis’s eyes. Their open mouths panted _so_ _close_ to each other’s. They practically swallowed each other’s breaths.

 _He wants to kiss you_.

 _No. You misunderstand._ Ravus shifted. _It cannot be._

Ignis's thumb stroked the curve of his cheekbone, and looked, and looked, and looked at him. And although he smiled, something jagged and unhappy lingered in the curve of his lips. “We should go back inside.” Ignis stood and pulled Ravus up with him. “Come, help me make breakfast.”

_See?_

Ravus nodded. The hummingbirds were back. But then Ignis reached up to pull a twig free from his hair, eyes _oh, so tender,_ and the cacophony was silenced. At least for the moment.

They cleaned up their mess, and stood close as they finished preparing their breakfast.

“I will miss this,” Ravus voiced the thought.

“Grating potatoes?” Ignis asked, but Ravus knew he caught his meaning, and shot him a look that said so.

“You don’t have to go,” Ignis said in that self-assured tone of his, but underneath, there was an apprehensive sort of hope. Like a hand outstretched toward a beast, unsure if it will allow the touch, or seize the hand in its teeth. “At least not yet? I’ve been following your work closely. Accordo has made considerable progress in the year you and Aranea’s team have aided with the rebuilding.” He dumped the rest of the ingredients into the bowl. “Perhaps you can stay and help here for just a little while longer? We’ll need to find as many meteorshards as possible before we reach the long night. And there’s also the hunts, supplies for the people, as well as deliveries for Sania’s plants, the sick and elderly need-”

“You need not go on,” Ravus shook his head. “I will stay. At least for a while longer. I shall go wherever aid is required.”

Ignis let out a long breath and stared a hole through the skillet as it simmered.

“Heyaz!” Prompto ruffled his mess of bright blonde hair with both hands as he bounced down the steps cheerfully. But Ravus quickly learned that Prompto was far more complex than he outwardly appeared. His eyes were sharp, and they never left Ignis as he, too, rounded the counter. The blonde was concerned, but he kept his questions to himself, and instead gnawed his fingernails anxiously.

The sound of bare feet slapping on the stairs alerted them to Gladio’s presence, and then Iris soon after. 

The quiet at the table made him feel as though someone pulled a bag over his face.

Ignis cleared his throat abruptly. “Let’s not beat around the bush. I know you’re all worried, but I assure you, I am fine. Although I feel… immensely wrong-footed.” He looked up from his dish. “I now know that my own family is part of the reason why Ardyn is he way he is. My ancestors - or, at least, one in particular - helped make him this way. But let’s rewind just a mite.” His eyes slid to Ravus. “I believe Ravus told you all Ardyn kidnapped me that day on the altar. It was not so. I went with him willingly.”

Someone shifted uncomfortably.

“I needed to know his true intentions - he would not have made the offer for me to join him if he was not _hoping_ that I’d go with him. I almost didn’t… It nearly killed me to leave Noct and Ravus there as injured as they were. My only hope was that either Gladio and Prompto would find you two, or that Ravus would be well enough to find a way to get to you both first.”

Ignis stalled for a time and pushed his food around on his plate. “As unbelievable as it may sound, I think part of Ardyn’s offer was to make you all believe I’d betrayed you. But it was only through Ardyn’s own experiences of shocking betrayal that made him think he could sway any of us otherwise. Ardyn was reenacting something, although I did not know what at the time. Now, I do. Ardyn did not attack me when I first woke in the Keep like he might have. He instead told me to look for answers, something he would not have done if he intended to kill me from the start. Why give me the knowledge if only to then take my life?” Ravus could tell from the other’s faces that this was all news to them. It was the first time he was hearing this as well.

Ignis went on. “I saw visions of Ardyn’s past inside the Keep. Ardyn does _nothing_ without reason, and I’m confident that he thought it necessary to jump through so many hoops to allow me to see these, specifically. It was more than him just biding his time. He wanted me to understand - to know who he really was and why he was doing all this. It wasn’t until I knew and still refused to see things his way that he attacked me.”

He looked to them each. “Yesterday, I learned my ancestor was once Ardyn’s beloved. They were to be wed, and the flames I possess - Sagefire - are Ardyn’s own, passed down through my line." He flexed his fingers minutely around his fork. "They laid dormant for quite a few generations, but awoke again in me. I did not understand the fear in my family’s eyes upon learning I possessed a somewhat unnatural affinity for the elements, but I now believe it is because they knew of this long-held secret. I wonder, too, if that is one of the reasons why they made the decision to send me to the Citadel at such a young age… I can only assume the awakening of these powers within me is due to the return of its master.”

Ignis looked haunted; he would never know the truth of his parent's reasoning. Ravus placed a hand over Ignis’s and gave it a light squeeze. Ignis returned the gesture.

“Damn it,” Gladio seemed to say to himself, and rubbed his temple. “You know this _isn’t on you_ , though, right?”

But Ignis’s non-response told them enough. He might not have been there, but his family somehow helped set this in motion, and he’d been unknowingly using the power Ardyn gifted to his ancestor for years now. He was deeply troubled by it.

“Do not let this devour you.” Ravus let his hand slide away and went to the sink.

Ignis began clearing the table. “Well, with that out of the way, I’d be glad if we did not speak of it again.” He switched gears. “Holly left a message. There are meteorshards that need collecting not far from here. It won’t be a big job. I’ll see to that today. Sania also would like us to visit her sometime soon - she says the hydroponic farming arrangement is going nicely. We’ll continue to have leafy greens even without the sun.”

“I will join you,” Ravus offered as Ignis placed the rest of their dishes in the sink. “However, there is something we must discuss.”

“Alright,” Ignis said, the word sticking to the backs of his teeth. “Upstairs.”

Ignis closed the door behind them and averted his eyes. “This is regarding the translation, yes?”

Ravus nodded and bridged the gap. “It is now complete. We must follow the instructions precisely, but the King of Light _will_ be saved.”  
  
Wide green eyes slowly met his. “What?” he breathed. 

“Noctis will live to see the light he brings back to this land.”

“Oh, by Ramuh’s beard, Ravus!” Ignis's hands flew to the sides of Ravus’s face as joy lifted his heart once more. “Show me!”  
  
His heart lurched in his chest.  
  
Like a bandage - quick, and be done with it. He would not be afraid. It was merely a possibility.

And this was for the greater good.  
  
Ravus led Ignis to the drawer they’d been keeping the books in for safety and laid the notes out on the bedspread. “This diagram explains the ritual in great detail.” Ravus pointed to the most recently translated page. “They called the prism ‘the Eye.’ It acts as a focus for the ritual. These steps must be followed in order to draw a living soul inside of it.” His fingers traced the ink carefully. “The person whose soul is bound to the prism will then be able to see the souls of others anywhere in the world for a time, and find the one they wish to tether their own to. Their target will thus be linked to them indefinitely unless the bond is mutually broken by both parties. This connection creates a siphon - a sharing of power and balance. If I were to use the prism to seek Noctis out, I could tether myself to him. Should he become gravely injured during his battle with Ardyn, my life-force will immediately heal him, and… should he need to cross over into the realm of death to defeat Ardyn, I will be able to bring his soul back during a very brief window of time and return it to him before it is completely severed from his body, and thus, lost to the afterlife. If he consents to me doing so, that is.”  
  
Ignis had stopped smiling long ago. “And what of the daemonofied humans we saw? They were essentially attempting the same thing. They wanted to ‘transcend death.’”  
  
Ravus sat on the edge of the bed and beckoned Ignis to take a seat as well. “That is the price of failure. If anything goes awry with the steps listed, or I am unable to find and return with Noctis’s soul in time, mine will become trapped within the prism even if I have not perished as well.” A soul can only be separated from its body for a very brief timespan before the connection is cut off completely. To cast his soul from his body and send it into this evasive 'place where death was held back' was distressing enough as it was, but the things he might encounter once he actually entered this realm also remained a mystery... He didn't know what manner of spirits or creatures might attempt to forestall his path. To tarry at all could mean his end as well as Noctis's. “Because the person who initiated the ritual _is_ technically left living even after failure, but lacks a soul - no Light, so to speak - the miasma makes its home within. They quickly become daemonified, as we witnessed, whereas Noctis would simply pass on naturally as he would otherwise."   
  
“No,” Ignis shook his head slowly. “No, Ravus, have you not been paying attention? I can’t lose you - not like  - _never_ like that! It’s got to be what I saw!” He gripped Ravus’s hands tightly. “That means we _fail_ , and then I will have lost _both of you!”_  
  
“But we must make the attempt!” Ravus countered. “We do not know for certain that these supposed visions of the future are set in stone.”  
  
“And what if they _are?_ _What if you die?_ What then, if the miasma takes hold, and I am forced to kill you as you become reduced to the very thing your family has devoted their lives to healing for centuries?”  
  
“Then I will have died while attempting to atone for my horrendous misdeeds. And what of you?” he shot back, something within him crackling like a thunderstorm, splitting his heart open like a bolt of lightning smiting a tree. “You already killed yourself for him once! Tell me you wouldn’t die for him again! Tell me you don’t anticipate that to be the outcome when he returns!”  
  
Ignis’s own storm receded, recoiling back into himself, but his thumbs still traced the hills of his knuckles. “We cannot go through with this ritual. You shouldn’t think on it.”  
  
And his silence on the subject was evidence enough.  
  
Ignis had placed so much hope in this, spent so much time searching for clues and wracking his brain endlessly to translate the journals. How could he just brush it all aside? How could he accept such a fate? “Ignis, is this not the answer we’ve been searching for? The Prophecy will be fulfilled, Ardyn will be no more, the light will return, and the daemons will be banished from these lands forevermore, all while Noctis lives to be the king he was meant to become. It’s a new choice - my choice. And it’s a risk I am willing to take.”  
  
“It is no choice at all if my decision is what may ultimately lead to the needless death of someone I’ve come to care for dearly. I beg of you, forget it.” Ignis’s eyes shown bright with sorrow. “Please,” Ignis brought their foreheads together, noses brushing just barely.  
  
Ravus acquiesced.  
  
For now.  
  
But it laid like a rock between them. He didn’t know how much time they had, but he would let Ignis have it. Perhaps Ignis only needed to weigh his options for a bit longer.

He and Ignis retrieved the meteorshards, and pretended their exchange did not happen.

Made dinner, and pretended it did not happen.

Shoved the books in the back of their cabinet, and pretended it did not happen.

That night, when Ravus placed his pillow at the footboard as usual, Ignis stopped him.

“If we're only going to end up in the same direction by morning,” he’d said, “we could just cut to the chase now… if you would prefer it as well.”

So, they held each other at night.

It was so strange, Ravus had thought, to be so close to a warm body, and with no expectations attached, no ulterior motives.

For so long, he’d thought the only way to survive the cold in this world was to become even colder than the cold, itself. Nothing could touch him that way. Nothing would survive it.

But being in the protective barrier of someone’s arms at night set a limit on the pain they felt. Like they could be surrounded by something other than the cold. It was like the pain and fear could not get in. Or, not as much. It was a perimeter. Sacred, like the runes over havens that kept the daemons at bay. And just like that, every night, they saved each other in the circle of their arms - saving each other in dreaming just as they did in daylight.

A month passed.   

They did every hunt that was thrown at them.

When anyone asked how progress was going with their research, Ignis simply said they realized it was not as substantial as they thought, and left it at that.

No one questioned it.

He and Ignis hitched a ride in the back of a Glaive’s truck to Sania’s ‘farm’ not far from the Cauthess Rest Area. Ravus still had no clue what Ignis meant when he tried explaining it.

It started raining on the way there, and made the truck smell _awful_. He covered his nose with the front of his hooded sweatshirt for the majority of the ride.

Something was coming. He felt it. Somewhere on the horizon like a massive flock of migrating birds that would blot out the sky. 

“Oh - look!” Ignis pointed to nothing in particular through the window.

“Grass…” Ravus deadpanned.

Ignis maneuvered Ravus’s head at a slightly different angle. “For Shiva’s sake, look with your eyes, Ravus.”

“What do you think I’m looking with, _my feet?_ I still see nothing but grass, and some massive trailers.”

Ignis sighed and gave him that little smirk of his. “You’ll just have to see when we get inside.”

So, it turned out the trailers were the farm.

“What do you think?” Ignis asked as they stepped into the purple light.

“Well, I must say, I can’t believe my feet…”

Ignis let out a guffaw and covered his mouth.

Sania was some kind of genius. She took nothing and created something that would provide enough fresh greens for entire communities even when they fully lost the sun. There must’ve been over one hundred racks in this single trailer alone.

“Come, let’s have a look at what she’s growing in the others,” Ignis hopped out of the trailer and disappeared.

Ravus drifted over to another long container like the rest. He could immediately tell what was growing in this one. The familiar scent hit him like a brick, but a nice-smelling brick, and bent his head to inhale the crisp aroma of fresh basil.

“Amazing, isn’t it?”

He jumped when a presence appeared at his shoulder. A woman holding a spray bottle smiled down at him and he straightened.

“Yes. I’ve never seen anything like this before.” He passed his gaze around the space.

“Well, I guess I wouldn’t be doing my job if I wasn’t leaving people in shock and awe! Dr. Sania Yeagre, at your service.” She stuck out her hand, only just seeming to remember she was holding the bottle. She put it down and tried again.

He looked at the hand.

“You shake it, young’un!”

“Oh, I apologize." He was taken by surprise - most people would spit at him before shaking his hand. “You know who I am?”

“Of course, I do, Mister Fleuret. I saw our bespeckled friend wandering around just now, and figured you'd be nearby.”

“And it does not bother you that I’m here?”

“ _I’m a scientist!_ ” she said, as if that was explanation enough, the purple-pink light flashing off her round frames. “That would be akin to one trying to see the entire universe through a keyhole in the door they hide behind.” She made a circle with her thumb and forefinger and peered through it. Then she shrugged, giving him no clue as to how she personally felt about any of it.

“Feast your feet on these, Ravus.” Ignis appeared behind him in the narrow trailer holding a handful of kale. “I dare say I’ll be able to make something that will inspire even you with your hatred of kale to turn over a new _leaf_.

Ha.

“You boys are strange! I like it!”

Two more months.

Sania asked them to bring her soil samples and readings from across Lucis. It was part of another experiment: she needed to know how the earth was changing as the Scourge spread and the nights grew longer. Temperature, bacteria, and so forth. Perhaps then, she could understand its degradation, and come up with a way to help as more creatures and wildlife became corrupted by the Scourge.

Another four months passed.

The temperature continued to drop.

Ignis was called out for a mission along with a few green Hunters while the Amicitias were away escorting a massive haul of meteorshards they’d unearthed near the Rock of Ravatogh.

Which left Ravus and Prompto to trek through the wilderness in the freezing cold to find a lost delivery of medications.

Prompto leaped over a crushed lane divider, graffiti across its surface proclaiming the end of times. “Watch - there’s a dip in the dirt here,” Prompto warned too late. They were traveling to the location where their Hunters last checked in - where it was implied they had _checked out_. If they couldn’t find the Hunters, they would at the very least find and retrieve the medication.

The soft shush of broad leaves rasped against each other in the breeze. Lofty trees interspersed with those little more than twigs barely permitted any of the grey sky to peek through their mass of red-browns and yellows.

They’d lost Hunters here.

Just disappeared.

One day a small team was set to deliver the duffle bag of medicine to a few homes. Not everyone could get to big cities like Lestallum, and so there were many people left without access to the things they needed.

A dense fog crowded between the trees that one would think thick enough to move out of the way with the brush of a hand, just as surely as you would a branch.

“You, uh, get the feeling we’re being watched?” Prompto hefted his pack a little higher on his back. “I’m feeling distinctly like something’s dinner right about now.”

Leaves covered the damp earth, squelching beneath their boots, and mud adhered to the backs of their calves.

“You shall be prey for no creature. Especially not while I am with you.” His eyes scanned the wilds.

Prompto chuckled nervously. “Feelin’ safer already, Rotini.”

He chose to ignore the nickname. The Argentum boy had taken to calling him various forms of pasta of late. Ravioli, Rigatoni, Rotelle, Rombi, Radiatori… He had no idea so many started with the letter 'r.'

A crow called in the trees, and Ravus spotted the black smudge against the branches.

Three crows in a row meant death.

A superstition? Not unlikely. But it was where they would find what they were looking for.

The duffle bag hung precariously from the long, thick root of a massive tree that had grown out over a ravine, the great artery of the Maidenwater below.

“How in the…” Prompto stepped closer to the edge and peered over.

Wood creaked, and a mandrake shook itself from the ground to lift its leafy crown.

“Damn it!” Ravus reached for Prompto just as Prompto staggered back from the beast’s long-limbed reach.

“It’s a trap!” A grenade shimmered into existence in Prompto’s palm. He shook his head, thinking better of it as he considered the multitude of trees, and instead called on his firearms.

Ravus righted himself and unsheathed _Alba Leonis_. “Careful. He appears a mite upset.”

The mandrake reared back in a stance he immediately recognized. Releasing its sonic emission would mean the end for them. Ravus leaped forward, an armored kneecap colliding with its bark-like face with a _crack,_ andsending splinters flying. The mandrake snarled, grass and twigs flying, and then its wooden claws slammed into the hard-packed dirt to summon a boulder from the earth. Prompto dashed to a ledge and launched a gravisphere at the stone, propelling it back into the beasts orbit, and shattering them both.

"Yeah!” Prompto slid down the ledge. "We... are  _ridiculously_ awesome!"

Better now with the fighting over, but the boy’s nerves still scatter and stick. He saw it in his destroyed cuticles, in the way he clutches his stomach, the way he holds his breath. “You give yourself too little credit, Argentum. Your skills have improved remarkably.” Ravus patted the dirt from his pants.

“Um. Did you get hit on the head while I wasn't looking? I’m no Gladio,” he attempted to wave off the praise.  

He'd trained enough soldiers to know what this was. “A great white shark has size and strength but not the agility of a seal, just as a spiracorn has speed but not the stamina of a sabertusk. Muscles do not a great warrior make.”

“That sounds fake, but okay.” He rummaged in his pack for a mini-sized box of cereal and shoved a handful in his mouth before walking off toward the duffel bag. “Say a prayer for me, I guess,” and he gingerly raised himself onto the massive tree root.

“Are you sure you do not wish for me to do that?”

“Dude, you gotta be, like, a solid thirty pounds heavier than me! Sharks and sabertusks, and all that!” Prompto wobbled, and Ravus felt his chest seize.

 _“Joyous be they who under Dawn’s radiant wings finds shelter. Let the verdant ground grow beneath your feet, and let not even the wind nor gelid waves halt your trail. For your will shall be stronger than the most mightily crafted temple rocks. Shiva, guide this path darkened by mystery, for your unshattered will is our anchor. Blessed are those who follow in Shiva’s pa-”_ Wait. “You were joking.”

Prompto chuckled and dismounted from the tree root, dropping the bag at their feet and immediately taking stock to make sure no harm had come to the mass of glass vials. “Sometimes I forget you had all that stuff drilled into you, too.”

His phone vibrated against his thigh and a song that sounded distinctly like someone repeatedly pressing a button they’re not meant to on a computer blared from his pocket. He’d left his phone unsupervised again - he was sure it was Iris’s doing this time. Ignis’s name flashed on his screen.

“Uh. Mr... Dumpus?” A voice that did not belong to Ignis asked.

“Speaking,” he tried to remain calm.

“I’m calling because Mr. Scientia has your name down as one of his emergency contacts.”

And that was when he lost the ability to feel his face.

Prompto straightened immediately, free hand to his stomach.

Apparently, the hunt was going fine until a nidus formed and attracted more daemons than they could handle.

How rare it was for such a thing; many thought them to be myths. But of course, one had to appear while Ignis was already being flanked by havocfangs.

What happened next, some might call going a tad overboard. But the Hunter became deliberately difficult once he finally recognized Ravus’s voice and connected the dots.

At the very least, some lines from his outburst would thereafter be the punch-line to many of their jokes for some time.

Gods knew they needed someone to laugh at - even if it was himself - after they’d almost lost Ignis a second time. He didn’t even mind whenever Prompto spuriously pinched his freckled nose and feigned an accent to shout, _“Ah, yes, I believe it was the great and wise Fulgarian who once said ‘damn you, Gods-forsaken deflated pool float, I’m asking if his leg is off!’”_ or _“Because capitalism is a MESS!”_ and _“Tough cookies, you fucking dolt!”_

Ravus knew he couldn’t be with Ignis at all times. And he knew Ignis could handle himself. But he still felt like it was partly his fault. Ravus wasn’t there to protect him. Ignis could have died.  
  
But even if Ravus had one hundred arms, he would still never be able to hold onto Ignis as tightly as he wanted to. For Ignis was not a man to be coddled; he wouldn’t allow it.  
  
Ignis’s mood was foul when he returned home wearing a cast. Ravus took care of Ignis as best he could, helped him hop around the house, and fetched him whatever he needed until he was finally able to walk on his own again. Ignis refused to take a single healing drought - he said they must be reserved for life-threatening injuries only.  
  
Months passed.  
  
And then.  
  
One morning, they woke up.  
  
And the sun was gone.

It seemed as if it was struck from the sky. As if some massive hand came down and - _tsssssss_ \- extinguished it with its thumb forefinger. Like nothing more than a candle on a nightstand.

Ravus stood at the threshold to the door and looked up at the morning sky in horror.

The world was pitch black.

They all saw it coming, but that did not make it easier. The days had been getting progressively shorter, darker, and the sun had more and more trouble peeking through the thick blanket that slowly pulled itself across the heavens.

And it was as if the heavens, themselves, had forsaken them - did not wish to look at them anymore, and so _smothered them_.

“Ravus?” Ignis joined him at the door and looked up as well, gasping in utter shock at his side. Ravus took Ignis beneath his arm and held him to his chest. Ignis’s hand found Ravus’s heart.

The night had come for them.

Noctis did not return.

Ignis had taken to touching him more throughout the day, as if he worried that he, too, could disappear at any moment. A hand on his shoulder, on his back, his arm as he passed by, as they did the dishes, as they sat in the back of a truck to go on their next hunt.

Like their daily silent phone calls again.

_Are you still there? Yes. Okay, good. It’s dark. I know._

Prompto and Gladiolus took Iris to stay in Lestallum. They had lights there, a big gate, and lots of Glaives. It was the safest place in Lucis, and people began to flock there. So many, in fact, that most had to be turned away after just a few short weeks.

Caem was starting to become too dangerous.

It was during their absence that it happened.

He was bundled in bed with Ignis at the time. With the disappearance of the sun, it was even colder than before, especially so close to the sea. They’d taken the blankets from the other beds and piled them on their own.

The sound of scratching woke him. Like jagged nails grinding against wood.

It came from the side of the house.

Ravus shook Ignis awake - _something was trying to get in_.

They peered out the window, and it was far worse than he’d feared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I know pretty much nothing about any type of farming. What little knowledge do I possess concerning hydroponic farming, urban farming accelerators, indoor urban farming, or the like, all comes from a place I’m familiar with called Square Roots that uses a process similar to what I’ve described Sania implementing here. You can check them out here to get a better idea if you're interested: https://squarerootsgrow.com/platform/


	10. Evacuate

Daemons.  
  
A hoard of them bubbled up from the ground enshrouded thickly in shadows, flew in from the trees, climbed out of the sea.  
  
He and Ignis dressed quickly, hands fumbling over their flashlights. Ravus tossed as many necessities as he could fit into a duffle bag, spared Ignis’s back a glance and shoved their notes and the prism inside as well.  
  
They had to leave - it would be their deaths to think the two of them alone could withstand such an onslaught.  
  
"Come, Umbra!”  
  
Ignis threw a flask of ice through the front door, and the daemons recoiled just enough from the swirling hoarfrost for them to sprint down the hill. They had nowhere to go in the middle of the night but the nearest haven by the seaside.  
  
With no way around it, they fought their way to the glowing sanctuary, and threw themselves onto the hard rock as if it was the most luxurious bed in all of Eos, panting on their backs as they stared up at nothing with wide eyes. Umbra’s nails clicked rhythmically as he paced and watched the rippling sheet of frigid, dark water.  
  
His hand found Ignis’s without looking, and Ignis gripped it tightly enough that it almost hurt.  
  
They called Gladio and Prompto to let them know where they were, and warn their friends not to return to Caem at any cost. He and Ignis also needed a ride as soon as possible.  
  
But it would have to wait. There were no Glaives or Hunters in the immediate area who could come for them right then, and it was far too dangerous to travel alone.  
  
They lit the campfire and pressed their bodies close as the embers burned. His teeth chattered and their chests heaved, sweat-soaked from their ordeal. Gooseflesh rose across their skin; in every shadow waited tooth and claw. 

“What are we to do?” Ignis shut his eyes against the glowing coals. “How will the rest of humanity survive like this?”  

Ravus knew in his gut how he would have responded not so very long ago...

He would have said that hope had abandoned them, and therefore, they must persevere without it like they do most other things. But he saw somewhat differently now.

“You already know the answer.” Ravus smoothed back the wild hair from Ignis’s forehead. “We’ve been doing it all along. We must hope. When days are calm, we'll take it in our hands and drink deeply from it to fill us like a warm drink. When days only seem to dole out hateful verdicts, seize it with our teeth and do not let go.” Because that was the thing, wasn’t it? In this world, they need only wait for pain and suffering to find them. So often was it thrust upon them seemingly without rhyme or reason. But to hope, that was an entirely different story. It was not mere optimism, and it’s not always a feeling, but a conscious decision. A vow, an act of rebellion when the world tried to force their heads down. “We will hope, and do our best until Noctis returns to banish this eternal night. Just as we have, we must each continue to work together as one, and protect those who cannot protect themselves. This is an impossible situation, yes, but many of our previous hurdles have seemed impossible situations until we survived them. It will be dreadfully hard and outrageously dangerous...” With a gentle hand to the back of Ignis’s neck, he brought his lips to the crown of Ignis hair. “But this is just the next one we must get through to step out into the light again. And the world _will_ see the light again.”

 

<<>>

  
  
It was Dave who eventually came for them, shouting down over the guardrail in his country twang. They piled in his truck, Umbra on Ignis’s lap.  
  
Dave couldn’t drive them all the way to Lestallum, but Taeplar was close by, and still safe enough to travel through for the time being. From there, they could arrange to go elsewhere, and eventually make their way to the bustling industrial town.  
  
But after staying up all night at the haven, fearful and on edge, they only hungered for that sweet oblivion when they first arrived. They washed the filth and blood from their hands and faces, and knocked out.  
  
When they woke, it was useless to try and discern whether it was day or night. Ignis’s watch told them it was evening, but it was _all_ night now.  
  
The powerful lights outside made them feel safe enough, though, and they sat at the patio tables to call their friends again. They didn’t have a concrete plan for getting to Lestallum, nor did they know for certain if it would even be wise to travel there just yet. If the daemons were going to be appearing as suddenly and in such numbers as they had at Caem, things were getting much worse, much faster. There needed to be people around to defend the smaller towns as well… They could not abandon these people.

He looked to Ignis when he began humming quietly at his side.  
  
“Sorry. I used to love this song,” Ignis said sheepishly. The old tune played from a radio on someone’s windowsill. Ravus thought he recognized it, too. It was a song that dripped emotion without words, and struck a chord within him. He stood from his seat and held out a hand.

Ignis took it, and their feet fell in time with the melody.  
  
Ignis looked so tired, eyes rubbed raw, and the barest hint of wrinkles made a home at their edges. But he smiled just a little, and squeezed his hand, and Ravus knew he didn’t deserve Ignis. And he never would.

“We should do the ritual,” Ravus whispered against the side of his face.  
  
Ignis pulled back.  
  
Nearly a year had passed since they last spoke of it. “I have the prism. I brought it with us.”

“Ravus, we discussed this.”  
  
He chewed the inside of his lip and sighed through his nose. “The first part of the ritual seems easy enough, and that step can be done now even with Noctis still inside the Crystal. It’ll be best for us to do that part in advance, so we will not have to go through them both at once. It’s the second part that’s more difficult, and will have to wait until he has returned to us.”  
  
“And yet you may still die during the first part as well if the steps are not carried out with the utmost precision,” Ignis hissed.  
  
“Where has your confidence gone off to?” Ravus stroked Ignis’s arms. “Your hands were made for doing things with the utmost precision.”  
  
Ignis scoffed. “And you were made to vex me.”  
  
His lips twitched. “Yes, but only as thoroughly as you prefer to be vexed.”  
  
Something soft and sad washed over Ignis. “You’re right.” Ignis spoke in hushed tones, and it sounded so much like those dangerous little words. But in a word, there was power. Some words were too powerful for flesh and blood to stand. “Which is why I really don’t want to go through with this.”  
  
“Consider it, Ignis. You know it just as well as I do… Just because the long night will someday be over does not mean the future will be free of challenges. Lucis will need a leader after all this. And when he emerges, there will be none more fitting than Noctis. He will surely become _exactly_ what this world needs.”  
  
The song ended, and Ignis retreated into himself. “I will consider it. Please, give me some more time.”  
  
But he would consider it. Ravus nodded. It was better than ignoring it.  
  
“Come. Vex me inside, now, where it’s warmer.”  
  
Days passed. They stayed in Taeplar. There were a few children about, although not all had parents. The dark had taken many even before it fully descended. He and Ignis tried to do their best for them - made sure they all had enough food each day, made a schedule and went on patrols every few hours. When it was safe, they played tag with them.  
  
It might’ve seemed a waste of their time to some, but it was important that the children have this bit of normalcy restored - a moment or two where they could smile again and forget about the cold dark. They would get past this, and they needed some affirmation that it would be okay to stay strong for that day.  
  
Weeks shuffled on in the little town. The ports in and out of Lucis closed until further notice as the shores became infested with daemons.

Then, just when Ravus had begun to fear Ignis would never arrive at a decision about the prism, _arrive he did._

There was no fanfare, no dramatics. Ravus had only finished tinkering with a loosened plate on his magitek arm, and Ignis watched over the children by the window as they played outside with Umbra. Ignis waved to the small group, and they all waved back happily before resuming their game of fetch.

Ravus had already known it was coming when Ignis looked at him like that over his shoulder, and said “We should do it,” voice small but sturdy.

And that was that.

The ritual required it be done in a place where the veil between this world and the next was thin. They’d both felt it that day several months ago when they fought the behemoths - the feeling of ozone separating like water and oil in the air. That was where they’d go.  
  
After scouting the forest thoroughly, Ignis drew protective sigils around the area, and Ravus laid in the grass.  
  
_Be calm_ , he reminded himself. This was what they’d been researching for nearly two years. What Ignis had been toiling over as a way to save Noctis since he first laid eyes on that prism.  
  
Ignis kneeled at his side solemnly. “Wh-” he looked away. His jaw clenched, and he seemed to call upon all his strength to force himself to look down at Ravus again. “What shall I do… if you do not make it through? What rites, or services for the dead-”  
  
Ravus took Ignis’s hand. “I will make it.”

"But if you do not,” he urged.  
  
Ravus turned his face to the darkened sky. “I care not what you do with me. Tie an anchor of heavy chains to my feet and cast me into the ocean, or light my body afire until all that is left is my esteem for you.”  
  
He felt Ignis’s hand slide away from his.  
  
And then he began reciting the words.    
  
_That’s good, Ignis_ , he sent his silent encouragement. _Make a funnel with your mind and find me. I’m right here._ He felt his eyes sting and his body went tense of its own volition. Ignis continued to murmur. _Focus on the words. Focus. Intent._  
  
Ravus felt dizzy. _Focus_. Ignis’s open palm came down on the center of his chest and a feeling like flames seared his skin. Ignis did not allow himself to falter for even a second. Ravus gasped through the sudden pain and arched his back off the ground as if he could get away from it, but it was everywhere. _Focus! Focus!_ Something snapped inside him and he screamed.  
  
_Oh, Gods!_

Light, light, he was being lifted up, and oh, oh, oh, it was so beautiful…

And he was still.

 

<<>>

 

 _No_.

His pulse was deafening in the grim silence of the forest. It closed in on him, denied his lungs.

“Ravus?” Ignis tried, and his voice sounded foreign to his own ears. So very far, far away.

 _No_.

He held a trembling hand to Ravus’s mouth and waited for a breath that did not come. _“Oh-”_ a wretched keening poured from his throat like a fount, fat teardrops darkening the deep blue material of Ravus’s shirt.

“Oh, Ravus - Ravus, please, _no-"_ he shuddered, bent over Ravus’s chest and bellowed into his shoulder. There was no pulse, Gods damn it all! _You trusted me with your life, and I killed you!_  
  
“Wake up," he sobbed bitterly into the crook of his neck, cradled his head. _“I’m so sorry,”_ he rocked him gently.

_“I’m so sorry.”_

“Please, come back-”  
  
But he was gone.  
  
Gone.  
  
Gone.  
  
Gone.

“Fuck,” he whispered and pressed their foreheads together tightly. _“Fuck!”_  
  
_You fucked it up. And now Ravus was gone, and you're all alone, and you killed him. The man you’d come to-_  
  
_Gods, help me._  
  
He’d followed the directions precisely! He’d felt his confidence return when Ravus looked at him like-  
  
Like-  
  
And how could he ever look at anyone ever again, and say he’s fine, and that he’ll be careful, thanks, when Ravus was _dead_ in a forest?  
  
Ignis ran to the edge of his protective circle and retched.  
  
Dead.

Ignis pulled roughly at his hair and walked into the darkness between the trees.

_Why couldn’t he save anyone?_

_Why was nothing he did ever good enough?_

He slumped down, relishing in how the bark cut into his palm, and cried himself to sleep.

 

<<>>

 

Ignis woke and it was sometime o’clock and he hated himself.

His eyes were puffy, his throat was sore, his muscles burned, the sky was dark. And Ravus was dead. His back and knees popped and cracked as he pulled himself off the floor. He grasped the tree for support, and hissed when it rubbed against the cut.    
  
He choked on his own shock and confusion.  
  
Ignis staggered on wobbly legs, limping, and aching, and blistered, and exhausted, and _devastated_.  
  
Because Ravus’s body was _gone_.  
  
Ignis scrambled over the little hill and stood shaking on its highest point. “Ravus!” he shouted, hands cupped around his mouth, as if that would help his hoarse voice carry anywhere.

No movement.

And yet, the Scourge could not possibly have taken him this quickly.

  
“Did you just bloody evaporate?” he blinked away yet more tears as the wind howled around him and chilled the dampness on his face.  
  
What was he even supposed to do at this point?

He forced his body upright and his feet carried him back to the forest entrance, back to the motel.  
  
All he wanted was to make a nest in his bed and never leave it again.  
  
But it would smell of Ravus.  
  
He slammed the door behind him.  
  
And Ravus was sitting at the table.  
  
He turned his head toward Ignis, and time slowed to a halt around them.  
  
“How are you here?” Ignis asked in awe.  
  
“Tired, mostly.”  
  
_“Ravus!”_ He chided. His legs and hands trembled overwhelmingly. He was milliseconds from crumbling into a heap on the floor. “You weren’t breathing.”  
  
Ravus came to him, put his hands on him, and they were real, and firm, and Ravus was _alive_. “I woke not more than a half-hour ago after locating Noctis and couldn’t find you. I was disoriented - I couldn’t tell where I was. I thought my safest bet was to figure out how to get back here. Were you out in the woods this whole time?”  
  
Ignis nodded tiredly and raked the hair back from his eyes, wincing when he once again irritated the slice on his palm.  
  
“Here,” Ravus held his hand out. “Let me see.”  
  
Ignis gave it over a tad grudgingly.  
  
“I believe I’ve seen enough wounds to know when one will become a problem,” Ravus examined his skin where it became puffy at the edges of the gash. “Come into the bathroom where there’s better lighting and I’ll clean it.”  
  
It all seemed so surreal.  
  
Ignis sat on the toilet lid feeling like a child who’d skinned his knees riding his bike down a hill he’d been specifically told not to ride down while Ravus poked through the medicine cabinet.  
  
Ravus knelt before him and disinfected the cut, and Ignis focused on the long strands of Ravus’s thick hair as he worked.  
  
“You succeeded,” Ignis mused. “You found Noctis. What was it like?”  
  
“Warm.” Ravus paused for a moment, impossibly long lashes drifting closed as he thought back.

“There was so much light and color everywhere. It was incredibly difficult to think. I could see the souls of others, and although there are no words that can accurately describe their appearance, they were all beautiful in their own way. I had to think of Noctis - imagine what his soul would feel like. I don’t know how I knew, but I did.”  
  
Ravus taped down a clean, white gauze, and rubbed a finger thoughtfully along its edge.  
  
It sent shivers up Ignis’s spine.

_Ravus was alive._

It left him breathless, lightheaded with relief, and he felt himself sway into the feeling, _sway into Ravus._ He lifted his hands to curve around Ravus’s sharp jaw and drew him up, drew them together, their lips on each other’s like petals falling to the surface of a crystalline pool.  
  
Ravus recoiled with a gasp, the harshness of the movement sending Ravus’s head bouncing off the door with a thud. But the hurt was in his eyes. As if his heart had been shattered like glass beneath a mallet.  
  
"Why?” he breathed shakily. “Please, Ignis, - I _can’t!_ I need to know what this is. And what of Noctis? It is plain to see you do not do the things you do for him out of duty alone.”  
  
Ignis stared at Ravus. “What?”  
  
And that’s when it dawned on him, slowly at first, then all at once.  
  
“Oh, dearest Ravus,” he reached out to him, and Ravus allowed the touch with eyes that bordered on frightened. Ignis understood what Ravus felt was happening, and an immense sadness washed over him. _What has this life done to you?_  
  
“I may be a treacherous voyeur, but I like to think I am not so depraved that I would endlessly chase a man who cannot love me back in that way,” he started off lightly. “I’d long-since decided to simply be happy that I might remain at Noctis’s side as his trusted friend and advisor until the end… But I also refuse to live out my life to a lonely old age never allowing myself to find love with another person because I’d stubbornly latched onto a thought that could never be realized.”  
  
Ravus took a moment to find his voice. “Are you telling me you thought that ‘person’ might have been me, of all people?”  
  
Ignis met Ravus’s eyes again, “I thought that person might have been you... I saw a man before me who I deemed worthy of my affection, and who freely gave it in return, without expectation. You are your own person, Ravus. Ferocious, and steadfast, and _endlessly loving,_ and one I keep near and dear to my heart. And I intend to keep you there.” He stroked Ravus’s cheek, and Ravus leaned into his hand. “I want you in my life. I want _you_. If you will have me, that is.”  
  
“If I will have you..." he chuckled hoarsely. "I trust you do realize what a horrible idea this is? I’ll admit, I do not know how it can be so when there are yet so many better men for you than I. But, Gods, do I want to try.”  
  
Ignis’s hand covered Ravus’s heart and pushed his back against the door. “Then try, old man,” and he swallowed Ravus’s kisses like the Gods’ sweetest ambrosia on his tongue.  
  
Ravus smiled down at him, and he didn’t think he’d ever seen that particular one before.  
  
He pulled back and flicked a dried leaf from Ravus’s shirt. “We should wash up, and then I’ll make us something to eat.”

“You go in first. And you’re tired. Perhaps we can make something together when we’re both done? I’ll tidy the table. I made a mess when I came in.”  
  
Ignis didn’t so much wash himself as he did lean hunched over and watch the layers of dirt and forest life wriggle down the drain. Left alone to his devices, he realized he could barely stand from the leftover stress and exhaustion, and kept both arms braced on either wall to help support his legs.  
  
Ravus handed him a mug when he was finished dressing, and he sighed into the piping-hot coffee beatifically. Not even the shower was enough to banish the chill from his bones.  
  
Ignis sank into a chair and mulled over what they should make - it was the first meal they’d be cooking together as a… as two people who’d kissed. It felt like a big thing. He moved to their little kitchenette and checked the cabinets.  
  
There was not much to work with.  
  
Freshly-showered, Ravus slipped into the kitchen behind him, wrapping his arms around his middle to pull their bodies flush together. Ignis let his eyes flutter closed as Ravus laid hot, open-mouthed kisses to the back of his neck, and he turned in Ravus’s arms to let him have at his front as well. _How long had he wanted exactly this?_

Ravus mouthed at his pulse, and the scrape of his sharp teeth against his skin sent sparks dancing throughout his body.    
  
He angled Ravus’s chin up once more and traced his lips with his fingertips, the curve of his ear, before placing a whisper-soft kiss to the scar that slashed across his nose.  
  
Ravus’s smile was tinged with sadness, his sleepless eyes full of wonder, full of devotion. Ignis brushed his fingers through Ravus’s damp hair, layer upon layer of confessions lifting and dragging against each other, their eyes lingering unabashedly as they’d not had the openness of their feelings to allow for such blatant indulgences before.  
  
_"Shiva’s breath!”_ Ignis startled at the knock, and their attention snapped to the door at once.  
  
Ignis chuckled and gave Ravus’s hair a little tug - he’d noticed Ravus seemed to like it, and filed it away in his mental notes for later. Because Ignis liked to have something to hold onto just as well.  
  
“Oh, hello, Miss Moogle,” Ignis hoisted the little girl up. “What brings you to our door so early?”  
  
She leaned back in his arms to _smoosh_ his cheeks.  
  
“Ah, yes, of course!"   
  
“I saw you come home from the trees. You were sad. You give us hugs when we’re sad.” It was the most she’d ever spoken at once since they met her, and her voice was nothing more than an airy rasp.  
  
“That’s very thoughtful of you,” he was moved, sincerely, and accepted her hug.  
  
No one knew her name, where she was from - nothing. The fate of her parents remained a mystery, and she refused to speak much of the time. They’d all taken to calling her “Moogle,” or various other terms of endearment.  
  
“Ravus and I were just about to make breakfast if you would like to join us,” he offered.  
  
Her eyes lit up at the mention of food and nodded vigorously.  
  
They settled on something that their little visitor could help with as well - simple oats with berries.  
  
“Dare I ask how many scoops of sugar you just put in your bowl, Ravus?”  
  
“It’s rude to speak with one’s mouth full,” he said matter-of-factly, and shoveled an enormous spoonful of oats into his mouth.  
  
A bright peal of laughter was surprised out of Moogle as she ate her own oats, and Ignis didn’t miss the way her nose scrunched when she took her first bite.  
  
_Betrayed! The berries provided enough natural sweetness!_  
  
He fetched a carton of juice from the fridge, and saw Ravus sneak a teaspoon of sugar into her bowl from the corner of his eye. Moogle quietly high-fived him with a broad grin.  
  
“You will end up in a dentist’s chair soon enough, Ravus, with that sweet tooth of yours,” he said archly as he poured them each a glass.  
  
“He says that,” Ravus waved a spoon at him in a loose circle and whispered mock-conspiratorially to Moogle, “and yet whenever he eats anyone else’s food, he buries it in salt.”  
  
Ignis feigned offense, hand over his heart. “I’m compensating for the lack of proper seasonings!”  
  
Moogle tugged on his sleeve across the table to get his full attention, and then proceeded to scoop one more spoonful of sugar into her bowl.  
  
"You fiends!”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *closes brass spyglass* Avast, ye, matey. There be dicks ahead...

Mountains did not fall at their feet, nor did red tulips blossom beneath their bed.

Nearly three months had passed.

Ignis would have liked to say things changed. Would have liked to say that the world seemed better, or just _different_ in some way.

However, that was not necessarily the case. The world did not revolve around them.

The ebb and flow of time took them by surprise - the days had flown by since they completed the first half of the ritual, since they first kissed. They were just as busy, just as scared, and the world was just as dark. It seemed they were stuck in a cycle of killing while clinging to life, to a sense of normalcy, to each other.

Because when everything else around them seemed so dark and cynical, to love and laugh seemed an act of defiance.

And defiance was a language they both spoke with cutting fluency.

Ravus stood with Umbra in his arms, hair all askew and a tear in the hem of his shirt as he gazed out the darkened window. But Ignis thought he looked like a king. Perhaps the king of Tenebrae he could’ve been in another world. But not this one.

Ignis pushed off the door to their bedroom and undid the tie in Ravus’s hair, combing through the waves with his fingers.

“You smell nice,” Ravus set Umbra down and enveloped Ignis in his arms, pressing kisses to his still-damp hair and inhaling the scent.

“I don’t use this particular soap too often. It’s hard to come by nowadays.” He laced his fingers together loosely around Ravus’s shoulders.

“Oh? And is tonight some special occasion?”

“It could be.” Ignis looked up at him coyly, let his hand play over Ravus’s powerful chest, let it slide down to his waistband. “Touch me?” He grazed lips practiced in all things over Ravus’s. Over the little line that formed between his brows.

Metal and flesh stroked down Ignis’s spine, cupped the swell of Ignis’s ass in capable hands, so steady and strong, and mouthed unspoken words softly against his lips. A promise against the corner of his mouth. “Show me.”

Ignis took Ravus’s hand and guided it down between his legs, and Ravus stroked lines of molten heat along his length.

To think Ignis, too, had once feared this desire - feared his need to be near him. And he still feared the day that they would walk out into the dark, and perhaps one of them might not return. He’d seen the fear in Ravus’s eyes, too, had always felt it in the fold of Ravus’s strong arms at night. Ignis had once thought it better to simply continue as they were - that it would only make it harder when it was all inevitably ripped from them. But on that day months ago when he thought he’d lost Ravus, he’d broken this rule, and in doing so, broke the dam. Because after that moment, he'd realized that to let these feelings lie any longer was only torture for the both of them, and Ignis could not die peacefully without letting them be known for what they were.

“Will you have me tonight?” Ignis gasped.

Ravus shuddered and kissed the tip of his nose.

In the months since they'd expressed their feelings, they’d learned each other’s bodies, every dip and scar. They took each other apart with labored breaths, and wet moans, and sharp teeth. And put each other back together again with reverent hands, and fervent lips, and whispers of devotion.

But they’d not yet had _this_.

“Are you very sure?”

“Yes. _Very.”_

“You will tell me to stop if you change your mind?”

“I will. As will you.” And with clothes discarded, they fell onto the bed. “Now, make me see stars, Ravus. It’s been far too long since they last graced our skies.”

“For you, I will bring them back a thousand times over.” He bracketed his arms on either side of Ignis to slot together mouths formed for kissing, every line of their bodies loved and possessed.

Heterochromatic eyes dragged up and down Ignis’s body like a physical caress, and Ravus smirked wickedly when he realized Ignis was watching him with the same ravenous intensity. Ignis took the opportunity to stroke Ravus’s lust, hot, and hard, and heavy against his palm, and spread his legs wide in invitation.

And oh, how Ravus opened him up with tongue, and fingers, and oil, and patience. He worked one callused digit knuckle-deep inside of him, a second, a third, both of them breathless and flushed as Ignis writhed and arched against Ravus’s slicked and talented hand. _“More,”_ he pleaded, hips twitching, his trembling sex thick, heavy, and swollen. “I’m ready. I need you now.”

“As you wish.” They bent their heads together, breathed each other’s air as hands warm and cold slid up his thighs, guided his legs over Ravus’s broad shoulders, and a thrill like lightning zinged up Ignis’s spine.

“Tell me if it’s okay?” asked Ravus as he pressed inside him, deliciously slow, deliberate.

 _“Gods,”_ Ignis’s dick stirred anew against his stomach, and he didn’t realize his eyes were shut until he opened them again. Ravus watched him steadily as he waited for his answer.

Ignis adjusted himself to better accommodate him and wiped the sweat from Ravus’s brow. He nodded, and Ravus began to roll his hips, biting his bottom lip to keep his whimpers, and moans, and all those unspoken words from escaping into the air between them.

“No - let me hear you,” Ignis urged, and snapped his hips up to command the cries from his throat, meeting Ravus thrust for thrust. He wanted them - all of them.

Ravus’s mouth fell open around a startled sound, head thrown forward against Ignis’s heart as long hair cascaded over his shoulders. His hands grasped Ignis’s hips tighter, pulling their bodies closer as they rocked desperately into each other, hot and wet flesh slapping together obscenely in the quiet. “Say it, Ignis,” Ravus groaned long and deep from his chest. “Tell me you want this - tell me you want me.”

 _“Yours - ah! I’m yours!”_ Ignis cried, the letters tripping over each other, nails digging crescent moons into Ravus’s skin. “Gods, how I _want_ \- the stars should know how I’ve wanted your hands on me! Your hand in mine!” he mewled, muscles trembling, “Your cock in my ass!”

Ravus’s fingers glided over the hardened points of his nipples, the flat of his tongue dragging against those little, pink buds, tasting him, savoring him as shapely, muscled thighs drove, and drove relentlessly like a current into that wanton arousal deep within him.

And they worshiped with their tongues, their fingers, their rhythm growing, an endless mantra of _more,_ and _please don’t stop,_ as their pace grew harder, faster, faster, until Ignis spasmed and clenched around Ravus’s thick cock, his ragged voice a breathless cry, head thrown back against the pillows as his hips continued to twitch and stutter.

Ravus held him as he quivered and panted through his release, thrusting into him again, again, and he felt it when Ravus came with a shattered moan carried on the breath of a sigh.

Hot spend slid down between his legs as he stretched out luxuriously beside Ravus, and Ravus reached over to clean them both off, planting soft kisses across his still-heaving belly.

They tangled their fingers together, and Ravus brushed his thumb across Ignis’s temple.

“The first was when we met as children,” Ravus gulped down air tiredly.

Ignis rolled onto his side to face him. “These are your four things?”

Ravus nodded. “Although I must warn you, I never said they were inspirational…” He sighed deeply. “When I’d heard Noctis and his future advisor were coming, I assumed you would be much older. Not a child barely older than Noctis, himself. I saw you just _standing there_ while Noctis played with Luna and the dogs, your hands folded perfectly behind your back, and I didn’t know who you were at first. Do you remember? I asked for your name, and why you weren't playing, too, and you looked like you were two seconds from running away screaming.”

“I did not!” Ignis chuckled.

“You did so,” he thumbed Ignis’s nose. “You shouted _‘Lord Ravus!’_ ” as if you’d just witnessed me come out of a mirror like those old stories told to scare children, and then apologized profusely. You told me your name, then, and that you were to be the future advisor to Prince Noctis. I was shocked. I asked you again why you were just standing there, and you said that you must; that you were to be on your best behavior while at Fenestala Manor…” Ravus looked away. “I was so _angry._ Angry on your behalf, because you were yet so young, and forced into such a position. But I believe that was also the moment that cemented my respect for you. That was when I decided I needed to take you around the grounds and have you try my favorite desserts. If you were ordered by me to do something, you couldn’t get in trouble… and I needed you to smile at least once while you stayed with us. It didn’t seem right to me.”  

Ravus shifted onto his back and pinched the bridge of his nose. “The second was, in fact, two instances, but I count them as one… That day at the Stronghold… I threatened Noctis and drew my blade on the Shield. And again when I killed Caligo Ulldor. Both times, you reacted the same exact way. You stood your ground, but did not immediately summon your weapons. You looked at me, not with hatred as you should have, but fierce determination. You looked at me…” His breath rattled in his chest, “and did not see a monster.” He covered his eyes with both hands. “You hoped to reason with me.”

Ravus was quiet for a long time. “The third was when I fought you.” He breathed hugely through his mouth. “You needed to get me away from Noctis, and you pushed me. I was the one who drew my blade against you, and even then, you did not wish to fight with me, instead dismissing your daggers to haul me away from the altar. You pleaded with me to come to my senses, and I threatened you, too. I said I felt nothing, because I thought I’d lost everything at that point. There was nothing left to live for… And when you defeated me, you still did so without wanting to hurt me, after _everything._ You pinned me with your dagger through my magitek arm when you should have just killed me right then and there for what I’d done. And then Ardyn came, and tried to kill Noctis, and I knew I couldn’t let him. But then he took you away, and, Ignis, I was _terrified of what he would do to you,”_ he grated out. “But then I heard of how you put on the Ring of the Lucii that you _knew_ would kill you, and were deemed _worthy of Kings."_

Ravus took a moment to compose himself. “And finally, the day we met in Luna’s room. That you even made the offer to help me back in the motel was surprise enough. But then you tried to… _Gods,_ you tried to _comfort_ me, and then it was _I_ who wanted to run away screaming. I didn’t believe I deserved a second chance, but you put one in front of me and convinced me that I could still try to make things right. So, I gave away the fortune, and donated whatever was not destroyed in the fire, and devoted every fiber of my being after that to rebuilding Accordo shoulder-to-shoulder with people who rightfully despised me, cooking for food distributions to feed hundreds of survivors, lending an ear for those who just needed someone to listen, and for those who just wanted to scream. I handed out blankets, face masks, whatever the people needed, and went wherever they needed help. And then I ended up here… I know we’re still not done, but I might not have even had the strength left in me to even truly _start_ if not for you. Yes, I thought I’d lost everything, but then I found the people, and I found you. And I know now that whatever we do, we must do for them, for each other, for those not yet born.”

Ignis shifted onto his elbow and pried Ravus’s hands from his face, and he held Ravus as his tears came. For his sister, for the world, for the future and the past.

<<>>

Years trickled by in the dark.

It was hard.

They traveled across Lucis, sometimes together, and sometimes separately. But they always came back to Taeplar. That was where Moogle was. She met Gladio and Prompto while they visited, and although she didn’t speak it, they knew she loved them immediately as well.

It became their home.

They were able to go to Accordo and Tenebrae again when the ports were opened for a time, but it was precarious business. They could be locked in or out at any moment. He and Ignis were once stranded for ten days between ports.

Many began to lose hope that Noctis would ever return, but not the four of them. He and Ignis, and Prompto, and Gladiolus always knew. They didn’t need the reassurance of their access to his magic to assuage their concerns and prove he was still with them.

And Ravus felt him. He felt their connection deep within the well of his consciousness. He tugged on it every so often, just to test it, and waited for the day he would get a tug in response.

Ten years had gone by since Noctis went into the Crystal.

Ten years when he contacted Ravus for the first time.

There was a voice, firm but kind in his dreams, and he knew the voice was not part of the dream. He latched onto it and _pulled._ Had to drag himself to it like a tortured man dug split and bloodied nails into splintered floorboards to reach the door that would lead to his escape.

Light, light, light, and there was a face - a man’s face, although he did not recognize it at first.

Noctis had aged so much in ten years. He held out a hand to Ravus, and flowers bloomed through his skin.

Three.

They had three days to prepare for Noctis.

Light filled him until he didn’t think he could survive it, enveloped him, became him, and then another face replaced Noctis’s - _and oh, he recognized that one, too._ Wait, wait, that was Ignis.

The kitchen light above them framed golden-brown hair like a celestial being. He was saying _something, something,_ and leaning over Ravus, and he realized they were on the floor when he turned his face and felt the cold tile under his cheek. His breath came in short little bursts, and he tried to focus on Ignis’s words, but they were still coming through muffled. _“-Okay, Gods, Ravus!”_ his hands were warm on the sides of Ravus’s face, and he nuzzled into them. He wanted to go back to sleep. _“Hey, no, stay awake!”_ Ignis patted his face, and he grudgingly tugged one eye open.

“Ravus, what just _happened?”_

It took him a few more moments to comprehend Ignis’s frantic appearance, and the fact that Ravus was, indeed, on the floor. Ignis had moved to support him with one hand on his back and the other on his chest, rubbing soothingly.

He jerked up to sitting, and nearly crashed their heads together.

“What—?”  Ravus held his forehead, still feeling too big and full.

“You ran out of bed, started speaking gibberish, and collapsed on the kitchen floor!”

He remembered, and turned to grasp Ignis’s shoulders. “Ignis, Noctis emerges in _three days._ We must get everyone to Hammerhead.”

Ignis’s mouth fell open around quiet sobs.

_“Dear Gods.”_

Three days to prepare.

They called everyone: Prompto, Gladiolus, Cor, Aranea and her company; they called upon the Glaives, Hunters.

The King of Light would rise from the depths of the winged prison, the Angelgard, to save them all.  

He and Ignis readied their belongings, readied their hearts, for this could be the end. They’d known all along that this day would come, and for years they knew this may be the last day they might hold the other's hand in their own. To look upon the face of their beloved.

Three days to shatter themselves against each other, and pour the fountain of their adoration into each other’s mouths. They marked with teeth, and fed the other’s skin their tears as they pressed and cradled and swallowed each other; placed kisses, both bruising hot and soft as the wings of a butterfly, to every inch of their bodies; to navels, cocks, thighs and chests; to foreheads, noses, knuckles, and palms. “I love you,” Ravus howled into Ignis’s shoulder as Ignis filled him up, “I love you,” Ignis quaked as he slammed himself again and again on Ravus’s lap. “I love you,” they traced with fingers onto each other’s backs as they drifted to sleep.

“I love you,” they said, as Ravus donned the white coat he’d not seen in years, and left with the Glaives to descend into the subway below Insomnia while Ignis awaited his King at the garage. This was war, and he would cut through Ardyn’s army wearing the colors of Tenebrae. The colors of the Oracle. He would give Noctis his father’s sword, look him in the eyes, and bow to him as his own King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're coming in for the close. How the heck does Ravus end up on the top of the steps to give Noctis his sword before everyone else gets there? We'll find out next time on 'American Idol.'


	12. Ejecting Soul, Five, Four, Three,

Ravus, Cor, and a small team of Glaives - all that could be spared for their journey - stood before the entrance to Insomnia’s ruins. Ravus bowed deeply, looked to them each, and fists over their hearts, they called upon their blades. 

Cor nodded to him, and thrust his sword to the sky. “Brave soldiers of the Chosen King, you are flesh and bone, sweat and scars. You are no Gods, nor are you of Divine blood, and yet Light courses throughout your veins, powers your magic, but not your hearts. No, that strength is your own. Call upon it now, for you will need both to survive this. Here you stand before the final test of your courage, your strength, your love for hearth and home, to reclaim your beloved city, to allow Light to shine upon our Star once more. Because today, we, too, shall emerge from this darkness.  _Now, come! Take it back with your own hands!”_

 _“For hearth and home!”_ They raised their rallying call, and hence, they came, descended into the great underbelly of the city to carve their way through the tunnels. Spirit on fire, they sliced through shattered and daemon-infested passageways they’d not dared traverse before, and the timeless drums of war were struck deep within his sternum, a call to arms, a battle-chant that pulsated in time with each ragged breath, each tread of heavy boots as they kicked up dirt, and death, and dark behind them.

And creature-darkness descended on them more fiercely than a thousand glacial winters. Blood was spilled; it streaked the chipped, tiled walls and painted his lips. But at the end of this tunnel would wait the source of the darkness, as well as the light: on steps cracked and crumbled after years made and unmade, the Usurper and the Chosen would finally meet once more to end it all. He called sparks to his fist and lit the tunnel ahead with the wrath of his storm. Blades shed sparks as they clashed, and screams both human and daemon echoed down the narrow corridors as they cleared a path to the Citadel.

A daemon made of hot smoke, although awfully solid, took him by surprise - red flashed before his eyes as a powerful blow ripped through his side, snapping jaws that longed to crush his head like a grape only held back by the edge of his blade. He struggled against it as it bore down on him, then, with a whir of steel, its head flew off to bounce down the tunnel. 

"This is our stop," Cor wheezed and hooked a thumb over his shoulder. Ravus held a hand to the freely weeping gash in his side and gritted his teeth through the pain as he nodded his sincere thanks. 

Bruised and torn, they ascended the steps, but all did survive. Ravus slumped on the stairs to the Citadel, took a handkerchief from his coat, and wiped the sweat and blood from his face.  

He’d barely caught his breath before he felt Noctis pull on their connection again.

He was close.

Ravus spared a glance back up at the towering skyscraper, took a moment to breathe deeply, to ready his heart, and felt his presence grow nearer at seemingly breakneck speed.

He wanted nothing more than to join them, to end Ardyn by their side, but it was not his place. He had another task, he reminded himself. He only wished to hand over the Sword of the Father and bow before the Chosen One, to lay eyes on those he’d come to cherish once more before he descended back into the Eye again.

He dragged himself up to his feet and cracked a potion over himself. “The King of Light approaches.” The Glaives and Cor all snapped their heads up and followed suit. They would need to be at their best. 

A few gasps rose from behind him as Noctis cleared a corner, purifying light spilling from his body. Ignis, Gladiolus, and Prompto each sprinted beside him wearing their own black Kingsglaive garb, the tails of their long coats flapping behind them as they flew up the street. 

And here it was - the moment he'd waited ten years for. Noctis looked to him steadily as he ascended the steps, their souls bleeding into each other as a single stream. Ravus bowed at his waist, and let the cloth covering the ancestral blade flutter to the steps. Noctis took it, breath too big for his throat, and a surge of emotions flooded their connection. 

Gladiolus and Prompto nodded to Ravus tearfully as well, hearts swelling with awe, with pride and reverence as the Glaive shimmered and dispersed to merge with Noctis - fill the spot reserved for the last missing soul of his Line - and there were tears shining in his deep, night-sky eyes. 

But Ignis could not meet his gaze. His jaw was clamped shut tight, knuckles going white at his sides, pain written in every frayed nerve, every tense and jerking movement.

Ravus's heart clenched further as he stepped aside for them.

He followed the line of Ignis’s shoulders, the way his breath caught as he passed him, nodded to him with a feeling like a bowling ball trying to roll its way up his throat.

And _fuck_ , Ravus went after him, grabbed his hand before he made it to the final step and spun him, closed his lips over Ignis’s and pressed the words there one more time.

 _I love you._ A promise. _I will see you again._

_And if you don't make it?_

_Then do not grieve, but look into a storm, and remember me._

"I love you."

"May we meet again at daybreak." And he went back down into the newly-cleared subway tunnel.

Door firmly locked behind him, he removed his coat, set his blade aside, and laid on the cot, prism clenched in his fist. 

He began the chant, and relinquished his hold on his mortal body once more. 

 

<<>>

 

_What?_

_No, this wasn’t right._

Depth cues once familiar warped around an absence of order, absence of dimension. He cautiously moved forward, unsure if his foot would find solid ground or part the floor beneath him like water. But it did find purchase, colors and shapes coalescing into a path he knew well. 

 _Why was he here?_ He swiveled his head at the procession that parted around him.

This wasn't anything like the last time.

Blue flowers littered the streets, and a sea of candles burned in gleaming chambersticks, one in every hand, and there were multitudes. Candles lined the road, the mouth of the tomb as they carried Lunafreya’s casket to lay beside his mother and father’s.

These were all spirits of the dead.

Over the many heads in the crowd, he saw the high peak of his mother’s crown, and choked on his own shock when he recognized another figure he’d not seen in decades.

“Father!” he shouted, and pushed his way through the congregation. He hadn’t seen him in so long, he was beginning to forget him. His voice, his smile. His light hair - Ravus’s light hair - parted to the side, and his steel-grey eyes that looked solemnly upon the reverent procession.

“Father, it’s me, it’s _Ravus_.” He ran to him. His father’s spirit looked upon him in utter shock, and gingerly raised his hands to cup his face, just like he did when he was a child.

 _“Oh, my son,”_ the spirit studied his face in wonder. “I can feel you. You are yet a living soul, how are you here?”

His mother’s hand came to rest on his back and looked at him in concern.

“I…” His thoughts were foggy. “I must find the King of Light.”

“King of Light? Goodness, how long it has been since I’ve been separated from the land of the living… And how you’ve grown… I think I would never have recognized you,” a wisp of a smile graced his father’s features. “Your freckles are all gone. Except for this one here,” and he thumbed the same little birthmark on his own nose. “We match.”

Ravus laughed wetly. His mother and father were in front of him, not a day older than when they died. He was closer to their own age, now.

 _“Stay with us,”_ unseenvoices whispered around him, felt the cool wind of their souls pass through him.

_“Stay.”_

_No… he had to get back._

_Get back to… where?_

He wracked his brain. _He had to find him!_

_Who him?_

_Noctis! He had to find Noctis!_ He ground his teeth - had to keep the thought there or else it would fly away. _Noctis, Noctis,_ he chanted. _Think of his Light. You know it now, you can feel it if you just focus!_  

He ran from the crowd as bells chimed in their high towers all around him, and focused on the _Light_. “Noctis!” he shouted and pulled on their connection. It was there, and just as strong as ever as he raced through the burial grounds, past the memory of his own form kneeling beyond the wild foliage.

A light flickered between the rows of tombstones.

It was not Noctis.

 _“Lunafreya!”_ he called, and she disappeared.

_No!_

He ran after her, heart rate an impossible stampede of wild horses within his ribcage  “Please, sister!”

When he found her again, she was kneeling before a nameless stone. His hand trembled as he held it out to her, slowly placing it on her shoulder as tears streamed down his face.

“My dear brother,” she turned her face up to him and covered his hand with hers. “You seek the providence of the God-Eye, do you not?”

“Yes.” He guided her up. “It is the only way to save Noctis.”

She nodded and led him through the shrines. “How deeply relics of the past impact the future; firm is the hold they clutch the present in their grip. How keenly words unspoken and lands unknown hold power over us all… The Crystal - the Soul of our Star - and the Eye, are connected, indeed. The relic once belonged to ancient Solheim - a counterpart to the Crystal, albeit, a far less powerful one. It has seen all things in this world and far beyond. But many things were lost or destroyed in the great wars of old. That this one has yet survived exactly where we needed it most… I can only think it by fate's decree. The Soul sees what the Eye cannot, but each together illuminate the truth as a whole. Tangible and intangible become one, tethered, just as you’ve tethered yourself to Noctis.”

His heart grew heavy, it thumped to the ground like a rock. “Can I not save you?” he whispered.

“My soul has been departed for too long.” She averted her eyes to the golden motes that wove between blades of green, green grass. She beckoned to them and they flew to her pinkened fingertips, lit her from within. “However, my duties are not yet complete... You have witnessed it as well, on occasion, have you not? And your beloved, too. Ardyn has forced the lock to break into this plane once more, and many things that strongly bear his memory have encountered his essence as he pushed against the barrier seeking entry through the many portals that connect past and future."

Countless dreams and visions surfaced in his mind. He shook them away. “Wait, my beloved? How did you-?” He looked to her askance.

Her laughter was like tinkling bells as she shooed the question away and mimed fixing a collar.

He slapped a palm over his neck. _“Lunafreya!”_

”Ask for his hand, brother,” she grinned. “He will gladly give it.”

Just then, something snapped inside him, and Luna looked down at his chest. “It’s time. We must go to him.” 

She clasped his hand and they ran through the portal, through the abyss, starlight whizzing past their faces, splitting around them like a wall of sand. 

They saw a multitude of scenes playing out around them at once.

Every window in the grand hall shattered and flung glass at a group of Glaives, and one of them threw a massive barrier up to protect them.

Doors splintered in their hinges as they flew open.

Noctis sat on the throne.

They watched, hands clasped. 

Watched for the moment. 

And King Regis impaled his son with his own sword.

_“Now!”_

Ravus latched onto Noctis as he gasped around the blade, thrust his own life force there, wedged their Light together and saw as one, felt the cold of Oblivion and pulled his warmth over it. He caught Noctis in it like a net - like capturing a firefly in the cup of his palms. Luna unfurled her Light across the void like wings that transcended time, and space, and love, and death, and held Ardyn’s hand as the darkness was expelled from him. Two thousand years of anguished screams rattled bones. His roar became thousands of centuries of battle-wrath clashing across the ruins of time, of waterfalls, landslides, thunderclaps, layers and layers deep inside the eye of a hurricane that tore through the dreamspace.

Spirit aflame from the inside out, Noctis gasped just as Ardyn’s soul finally shattered. 

 _“Do you consent?”_ Ravus heard his own voice echo within the cataclysm.

_“Bring me home.”_

 And so he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go!  
> Re: how Ravus could've possibly gotten to the Citadel before Noctis et al., (especially with the additions the Royal Edition ending brought with the wall/barrier, Cerberus, and so on)... I can only attribute this to the possibility that whatever Ignis accomplished in defeating Ardyn during V2 really did have a huge impact on Ardyn's strength and ability to command the daemons.... and was not just because, y'know, lack of proper planning by SE lol.


	13. Operation Don’t Die: Success

Ignis sat on pins and needles as he waited for Noctis and Ravus to regain consciousness, the collapsing shack of his nerves held together by only a single toothpick. They both lay dead to the world inside the camper at Hammerhead, although they were _very much alive._

 _They did it,_ a shaky sigh broke free from deep within his chest, and he buried his face in his hands.

_They did it._

_Out of the chaos, complete._

And miraculously, Noctis was the first to wake for once.

Ignis swiftly moved to sit at the edge of his bunk and passed him a glass of water. Noctis downed it with a grimace and shivered.

“How are you feeling?” Ignis asked as he took the glass from his hands.

“Ravus healed me completely,” Noctis brought his hands up to examine them, and they were whole and undamaged, except for a few pink marks here and there.

He was mended, just as the Crystal’s power had once heald Ignis when he'd worn the Ring to save Noctis ten years ago.

Noctis looked to him with a smirk. “I gotta say, I never expected Ravus to end up inside my head like that all of a sudden, way back then,” he huffed a laugh, and then glanced across to the other bunk where Ravus was still out cold. “And Ignis, I…” he stared at Ravus thoughtfully. “In that handful of seconds when he healed me, I could feel him. Everything. All his thoughts, his emotions, his memories.”

Ignis swallowed around a lump in his throat.

“I’m happy for you, you know,” and Noctis’s face was so sincere, pleased even. “Really.”

Ignis's breath gushed out in a tremendous sigh of relief, and he scrubbed his tired face. “That makes me _immensely_ glad to hear. I’m…”

 _Gods._  

He looked up at the ceiling. “I’d say you have no idea how worried I was, but of course you do. Worried that all the time in the world wouldn’t be enough to save you, worried that we’d fail, that I’d lose him, that I’d lose you, worried that you’d feel I’d betrayed you, and now, I’ll be worried until he wakes up.”

Noctis sat up carefully and squeezed Ignis’s shoulder.

“Iggy, I know I never said it enough growing up... I took you for granted because you were always there, always had my back, and I knew _you,_ of all people, would never abandon me... You’ve always been a realer hero to me than any of those comic book characters I hung on my walls. You still are, and always will be, no matter what. And besides, even if I did say I didn't like the idea, you would, what, just cut him off like that?"

Ignis's heart jerked painfully in his chest "No. Never."

"Good, and I wouldn't do that anyway. So, don't give me that face," he smiled and lightly shoved Ignis's leg with his foot. "And... I’m sorry, Ignis, for all the pain I put you through. I'm sorry for worrying you again.”

Ignis blinked back the damp from his eyes. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Noct,” his voice breaking on his name.

A groan. “I did not almost get turned into a daemon _twice_ just so you could make my husband cry, Noctis.”

“Oh- _Ravus!”_  Ignis reached for a glass of water and held it to Ravus’s parched lips. “How are y-” he halted and grinned ridiculously. “We’re not _married,_ darling.”

“Shit- that part didn’t really...?” Ravus coughed around his water and pressed on his temples with both palms as a headache seemed to hit him full force.

Ignis laughed and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Try not to hurt yourself. I know using the prism leaves you quite disoriented.”

Ravus grasped his wrist before it could leave his cheek. “No! Wait- wait, perhaps we should be.”

 _“Ravus Nox Fleuret!_ Is that not a proposal?”

He kissed Ignis’s knuckles. “Oh, no, I would never do something so _mundane_ as to propose after a double - no, quintuple - near-death experience. People _discuss_ these things before they properly propose, Ignis. I’d do it right. There’d be fruits present, a ring, and a dramatic sunset backdrop, absolutely.”

“Aaauuughhh,” Noctis covered his eyes. “Ravus, we gotta get rid of this connection thing ASAP. I’m still getting all your mushy, lovey-dovery, and - _ow_ \- why can I even feel your headache, too? Like, Iggy, can you please give him something for that?”  

“Oh, yes, of course,” Ignis said frazzled, and dug through his duffel to hand Ravus the little capsule.

Ravus popped it immediately, then looked at Noctis. “Huh. Intriguing.”

 _“Ravus!_ La-la-la-la-la, I’m not listening!” Noctis threw his pillow at the both of them, and Ravus cackled heartily. Noctis smiled hugely as well despite his front and threw another pillow at them. “You guys are _gross,”_ he laughed and leaned back in his bunk.

“We arrive bearing gifts!” Prompto and Gladio swung open the door to the camper carrying an armful of breakfast sandwiches, and Prompto tossed one to each of them with accompanying sound effects. _“Pshew!”_ he launched a paper-wrapped sandwich to Ignis, and he caught it easily, “one for you.”

They broke the connection between Ravus and Noctis after breakfast and bathed in the sun. It would be a while before the light expanded and reached the whole of Eos, but for now, they basked in its return. Ignis held Ravus’s hand as they sat at a table surrounded by their dearest friends once again, and his cheeks ached from how much smiling he’d done in a single morning alone.

Months passed before all the land was finally kissed by the dawn’s light and the planet’s day and night cycle was fully restored. Cleanup of Insomnia was underway, and each of them took part. Headlines picturing the sunrise over various parts of Eos filled the news, and glorious time-lapse shots and videos were shared on every screen: the sun rising and falling across grasslands and glaciers, a budding sylleblossom uncurling its leaves to greet the golden rays. Citizens from Lucis, Tenebrae, Accordo, and Niflheim, submitted videos of loved ones reacting to the sunrise, of children who’d been born in the dark seeing the sun for the very first time.

They returned to Taeplar. They introduced Noctis to Moogle and the other children there, although most were no longer children. But Ignis and Ravus still thought of them as such.

On the day they officially adopted her, the three of them sat on the roof of the old motel they’d once called home one early morning to watch the sunrise together, and Moogle coaxed them both to bow their heads, as if to tell them a secret.

“My name is Luz,” she whispered.

Ignis covered his mouth and hugged her tightly.  “Luz,” he repeated. “It’s _beautiful.”_

_Light - her name meant light._

Ravus enveloped them both as Luz told them her story in her low and disused voice, her skinny frame wracked with sobs. “My parents used to tell me I was the light of their world. But when the light disappeared and they died, I felt like part of me did, too - like I couldn’t be ‘Luz’ anymore.” She looked up at the both of them and wiped her eyes with the backs of her sleeves. "But you brought it back," she hiccupped, took their hands and held them tight as they watched the sky. “You brought it back.”

The summer solstice had the six of them - Ignis, Noctis, Ravus, Gladio, Prompto, and Luz - patiently awaiting a day their original group of four had celebrated for many years together. It was when the sun aligned perfectly with the gap between the Citadel’s towers, creating a resplendent glow that illuminated the city’s grid from its north to south ends simultaneously. They sat in their camping spot on the hill overlooking Insomnia, chairs surrounded by an array of picnic foods, Prompto with his camera ready.

Just as the sun hit its crest above them, Ravus bent down on one knee before Ignis, velvet box in hand.

_“My dearest love, heart of my hearts, will you marry me?”_

Ignis dropped to his knees and crushed their mouths together, and Ravus shakily placed the shining gold band on his finger.

<<>>

_‘My dearest love, heart of my hearts, will you marry me?’_

“That was lovely, darling,” Ignis traced the words printed in crisp, black ink with a finger.

“I couldn’t have gotten this far without you.” Ravus set the book aside to make room for Ignis as he planted himself on Ravus’s lap, slinging his arms around his shoulders to kiss him _deeply, deeply, deeply..._

_Fin_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! We made it! Thanks for sticking with me to the end :)  
> Also, yes, the thing about the sun aligning with the Citadel towers is supposed to reference Manhattanhenge lol...


End file.
